


carry me home

by olive_greets



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Beach House, Childhood Memories, College Student Johnny, Cute friendship johndomark, Cute friendship tenwin, Fluff, Island - Freeform, Kind of a slow burn, Light Angst, Light Pining, Local boy Ten, M/M, Missed Opportunities, Romance with a time limit, Side Jungwoo/Taeil, Switching Perspectives, beach party, but mostly soft, reconnecting, side markhyuck, summer crushes, vacation with friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:21:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 46,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25641994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olive_greets/pseuds/olive_greets
Summary: He realizes he had stopped talking, staring slack-jawed at the boy, when Taeil clears his throat. Johnny blushes and mumbles out a, “sorry, what was I saying?” in an attempt to restart the conversation, but Taeil swivels in his seat to follow Johnny’s gaze. A dangerous grin spreads across his face and, before Johnny can stop him, he yells out, “hey, Ten!”And then it clicks.___Or,The summer before his final year of college, Johnny takes a trip with his friends to an island filled with childhood memories. At a beach party, he unexpectedly reconnects with Ten, a local boy he used to have a crush on - but who doesn’t seem to remember him at all.
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 115
Kudos: 190





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello 😊! Back on my Johnten b.s. ... 
> 
> Things to expect down the line: (non-explicit) sexual content, nightswimming!, romantic sunrises, more cute friendship moments, other side ships, more backstory, fluff. I intend this story to be mostly low stakes and wholesome (and kind of a slow burn), but with a touch of angst and conflicted/complicated feels down the line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title taken from this song: ["Carry Me Home" by Jorja Smith ft. Maverick Sabre](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cgp95QPtENk)

* * *

Johnny breathes in deep, letting the cool, salty air fill his lungs. From his perch on the bow of the ferry, he can see the entire bay stretching out wide and blue, the boat stirring up frothy waves that splinter and crash in its wake. Sea birds swoop above and below, dive-bombing the water to slip beneath the surface only to reemerge a moment later, beaks full. The ferry picks up speed as it leaves the shallows of the harbor, and the sudden burst of wind causes Johnny’s hair to whip around his face and into his eyes. 

He hadn’t realized how much he had missed this.

It was six years since he had last visited the island, but everything about this ride – from the musty smell of the ferry to the shower of sea spray, carried aloft on the wind, that cools his skin – is exactly as he remembers it from those summers of his childhood.

Of course, now, instead of his parents, he is accompanied by Mark and Doyoung, his two closest friends from college. Since they were freshmen, the three of them had been planning to rent a house together the summer before their final year. During the last month of junior year, Johnny had been mindlessly scrolling through rental listings when he found the house on the island. Without even bothering to check with Mark or Doyoung first, he had called the owner on the spot. 

Doyoung stands next to him now, leaning over the railing with his phone held tightly in his hands as he attempts to take a panorama shot of the quickly receding shoreline behind them, squinting against the sunlight. Mark had been with them on the upper deck to start, but as soon as the boat lurched out of the dock, had turned a very worrying shade of green and made a beeline for the bathroom.

The entire ride from the mainland to the island is no more than twenty minutes, and Johnny soon sees the fuzzy shoreline of the island appear above the horizon. White smudges – which he recognizes belatedly as sailboats – dot the sparkling blue water. As the fast-growing shape of the island emerges fully from the ocean, the colorful houses that line the shore are visible even from this distance.

The boat blares its horn to signal its approach into the island harbor, causing Doyoung to startle and nearly drop his phone into the water below. Johnny feels a surge of excitement at the familiar sound, but he plays it cool, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and looking around the crowded boat for any sign of Mark. Luckily, he spots Mark emerging from the throng of passengers towards them, wiping sweat off his pale brow. He seems a little unsteady on his feet and gives a weak nod when he spots Johnny and Doyoung.

“Hey man, are you feeling any better?” Johnny asks worriedly when Mark slumps against the railing next to him.

“Better? Oh yeah, I feel great. Just great,” he mumbles into the crook of his arm. “Just promise me one thing – no more boats, please.” Johnny gives him a reassuring clap on the back, then picks Mark’s backpack off the floor and hands it to Doyoung. Doyoung looks like he is about to argue, but at Johnny’s imploring expression, rolls his eyes and slides Mark’s bag over his other shoulder. Johnny lifts Mark’s arm and winds it around his shoulder, then the three of them make their careful way to the lower deck, lining up behind the day-trippers and families as they wait for the ship to come to a full stop. 

Johnny can’t contain his grin when he finally steps off the ferry onto the dock, taking in the sights and sounds of the quiet little beach town. Passengers swell around him, jostling to find their luggage or greet waiting friends, but he stops anyway, letting the sun warm his face. Doyoung walks ahead, already standing at the end of the dock by the time Johnny and Mark make it down to where he is. He is looking quickly back and forth between his phone and the small main street of the town, craning his neck in different directions.

As soon as Johnny and Mark approach him, he says, without looking up from his phone, “alright, the email says our house is on Dune Way, which is supposed to be the third street to the left of the dock past the restaurant and all the way down by the other beach, but the owner said to pick up the keys at the post office first.” He finally looks up at them. “I’ll go get the keys; Johnny – you take Mark to the house.”

“I’m fine!” Mark protests, then groans weakly and buries his face in Johnny’s shoulder. Johnny smiles at Doyoung appreciatively. Doyoung sets off ahead, still holding Mark’s bag, while Johnny and Mark begin the slow walk to the house. The fresh air rolling off the bay must be helping, because some color returns to Mark’s face by the time they turn onto their street, and he is able to walk the rest of the way without leaning on Johnny. Doyoung catches up with them, and the three of them make their way down the narrow sand road up the hill, following the sound of the ocean.

Their weathered, slatted wood house sits at the very end of the street. It is balanced on stilts at the crest of a dune, looking out over a thicket of seagrass onto the beach and the vast ocean beyond. Standing on the boardwalk that slopes right up to their front door, they can see the entire curve of the island, all the way to the candy-striped lighthouse perched on a bluff in the far distance.

When Doyoung unlocks the door, Mark pushes past him and flops immediately onto the couch, mumbling something unintelligible into the cushions. Johnny and Doyoung carry their bags inside, then drop them in the entranceway to go scope out the interior of the house. Doyoung sets off to open all the windows, letting the sea breeze in, while Johnny wanders around, peeking into each room. He and Doyoung agree to share the master bedroom on the second level, letting Mark take the guest room on the ground floor.

They hang around the house for an hour or so, unpacking and settling in, until Johnny opens the fridge only to find it empty save for a bottle of water, and remembers they hadn’t brought any food. Although Doyoung initially insists to do the shopping, Johnny goes instead, wanting to stretch his legs and reacquaint himself with this place that sits so precious in his memory. On his way out the door, he sees Doyoung bring Mark a glass of water, squatting down next to Mark’s sleeping form and giving him a gentle rub on the back.

* * *

Johnny scans the shelves of the general store, doing a mental run through of Doyoung’s shopping list.

The general store is in an old wooden box of a building, and in addition to housing the island’s only grocery store, also acts as its pharmacy, bookstore, surf shop, and post office. Earlier that day, when Doyoung had come to pick up the keys from the owner’s P.O. box, he had – in true Doyoung fashion – looked through the entire store and created a list of exactly what they would need and in which aisle to find it.

Johnny knows the store well. When he was younger, he and his mom used to rent VHS tapes from its eclectic selection of movies whenever it rained. When he was a bit older – around thirteen or fourteen – he and his gang of summer friends would come to buy ice cream and soda, which they would drink at the pier while bothering the fishermen or trying to push each other into the bay. Nonetheless, Doyoung’s thorough guide is appreciated.

He grabs hamburger buns and a family pack of noodles, then wheels to the refrigerator for a twelve-pack of beer. He does a quick check of the list on his phone; then, certain he hasn’t missed anything, makes his way to the cash register.

The cashier, who appears to be the only employee in the store, is perched on a stool behind the counter with his nose in a book and doesn’t look up when Johnny begins placing his items by the register. Johnny sets the last item on the counter and waits patiently for the cashier to begin ringing him up. When the man continues to ignore him, Johnny clears his throat politely.

The cashier looks up, surprised, then hops off the stool, stuffing his book under the counter. 

“Shit, sorry about that,” he says, as he begins quickly scanning Johnny’s items. “I didn’t realize anyone had come in. We don’t usually get many customers around dinnertime.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Johnny assures him with a smile, helping the cashier place the groceries into paper bags after he scans them. The man looks to be around his age, maybe a bit younger, with short black hair and an assemblage of earrings cresting his right ear. He looks familiar, somehow, but Johnny can’t quite place him. Maybe he was one of the kids Johnny used to hang out with here? He doesn’t remember being friends with anyone with such an impressive collection of earrings, though. Before he can think too hard about it, his phone starts ringing in his pocket. He pulls it out and looks at the caller ID, seeing Doyoung’s name flash on the screen.

“I’m about to pay,” he says upon answering.

“Mark wants ginger ale.” Even through the static of the phone line, Johnny can pick up on Doyoung’s exasperation.

“Ginger ale?” He repeats, fishing his wallet out of his pocket. “It wasn’t on the list, was it?”

“No, but he just woke up and keeps saying he needs ginger ale.”

Johnny hears a loud rustling and the sounds of a scuffle, then Mark’s voice comes through loud on the other end of the line. “It’s for my stomach!”

Johnny chuckles, holding the phone slightly away from his ear. “Yes, Mark, I can get you ginger ale. Not a problem.” He can hear Doyoung muttering something in the background about a list before Mark thanks him cheerily and hangs up. He goes back to the refrigerator to grab a large bottle of ginger ale, then brings it back to the counter before handing his card to the cashier to pay.

He wrestles two of the heavy paper bags into his arms and attempts to pick up the 12-pack with his free hand, which nearly slips out of his fingers onto the floor. The cashier holds back a laugh, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly. “We have wagons out front you can borrow. Just make sure to bring it back as soon as possible.”

Johnny makes two trips with the groceries to the busted-up Radio Flyer outside. He takes the beer last, and when he turns around to thank the cashier on his way out the front door, the man is already back to being absorbed in his book, absently chewing on his lip.

* * *

A bell chimes above the door. Ten looks up from his book, then grins when he sees the familiar face. Sicheng, still wearing his apron, grins back at him. In his hands are two plates wrapped in aluminum foil, which he carries over the counter and plops down in front of Ten.

“What is it today?” Ten asks, passing a stool over the counter for Sicheng, who takes it and settles in across from him.

“Shrimp scampi,” Sicheng responds, removing the foil and handing Ten a plastic silverware set. “It’s not hot anymore, but it’s good cold if you squeeze some lemon over it.”

Ten enjoys the cold pasta as Sicheng tells him about the antics from that night’s dinner crowd. As with many of his stories, tonight’s offenders were a boisterous tourist couple – “mainlanders,” Ten mumbles knowingly through a mouth full of shrimp – who got drunk off one too many margaritas and started dry humping in their booth.

“ … and at that point, I had to physically remove her hands from there, because there are kids around. And adults. No one should have to see that,” Sicheng finishes. He doesn’t seem too upset, all things considered. Ten isn’t surprised, though; not much fazes Sicheng. Even confronted with the most entitled patrons – the type that, if Ten were faced with, he would probably spit in their food and curse them out of the restaurant – he maintains his serene expression and low, placid voice.

In all the years they’ve known each other, Ten is sure he has never heard Sicheng raise his voice above his usual gentle tone. He never would have thought Sicheng would be well-suited to take over the management of his family’s business – the only restaurant on the entire island, a quaint seafood eatery with a sunset view of the bay – but he took on the responsibility like he was born for it (which, Ten supposes, he was). His position as manager has made him known to nearly everyone on the island, and even despite his reserved and somewhat aloof personality, he is remarkably popular with both locals and vacationers alike. His good looks probably don’t hurt, either; with his sharp, elfin features, he attracts a fair number of admirers every summer.

When they finish eating, Ten stands and carries the dirty plates to the sink behind the deli counter. Sicheng follows him and leans against the meat slicer while Ten rinses up.

“Are you free later tonight?” Sicheng asks him, finally untying his apron from his waist. Ten looks up from the sink and gives Sicheng a pointed look.

“No, sorry, I’m actually really busy. I have tickets to the ballet, and then I was thinking I’d hit up a club, then maybe take a midnight stroll through the gardens,” he deadpans.

Sicheng rolls his eyes. “A simple ‘yes’ would have been fine.” He slings his apron over his shoulder and rolls up the sleeves of his black button-up. “There’s a bonfire at the beach later, down at that spot by the wave breakers. Want to go?”

Having grown up on the island, Ten and Sicheng are no strangers to a bonfire on the beach, and one benefit of Sicheng’s popularity is that he knows about every party and social event on the island. These, of course, only happen during the summer, when the population of their small island grows from around three hundred to a few thousand with all the college kids, families, and day-trippers who swarm off the ferry from the mainland all season long.

Ten considers Sicheng’s invitation. As it is still the first week of July, the novelty of seeing people his own age – other than the twelve kids who grew up on the island with him – has not quite worn off yet. And the season’s first bonfire is usually the biggest and most well-attended. However, the heat from the day, combined with dealing with clueless customers all day at the store, has drained most of his energy, and he was looking forward to unwinding with a glass of wine and finishing his book at home.

Sicheng senses his hesitation. “Come on,” he insists, grabbing the clean plates from Ten’s hands and returning with him to front of the store. “It’s no fun without you. And you have all summer to be a loser and sit at home by yourself.” This is true, of course.

“Alright, alright, I’ll go. But only because I love you,” he coos at Sicheng, who bats away Ten’s attempt to squish his cheeks.

“Great,” Sicheng responds, still swerving to avoid Ten’s sudden shower of affection. “I’ll come pick you up at ten.” He makes it to the front door in one piece. “And wear something cute.”

* * *

At 8 o’clock, Ten closes out the shop by himself, having swept all the aisles and turned out all the lights. The sun sits low above the horizon, and a small crowd has already started to gather by the pier to watch the sunset over the bay. A group of young children run in circles in front of the restaurant, giggling wildly and chasing fireflies with butterfly nets.

He walks slowly back to his house, feeling some of his fatigue evaporate in the cool evening air.

His home is on a narrow, secluded street just a five-minute walk from the restaurant. The small house is surrounded on three sides by a thicket of bamboo, which makes the area around it seem darker and quieter than the rest of the island. Although the bamboo is invasive to the area, the dense growth provides a welcome sense of privacy from the close-knit island community, in addition to protecting the house from the midday sun and the strong, late-season winds.

As usual, the house is quiet and dark when he returns. He flicks on the lights and turns on the radio, humming to himself as he walks into the kitchen to grab a glass from the cabinet over the sink. Even if he were going out, he could still enjoy that glass of wine first.

Although he sometimes got lonely in the house by himself, he generally did not mind being on his own for the half of the year that his mom went to stay at his aunt’s house on the mainland. And after having shared the bedroom with his sister all his life, he did finally feel independent, and could blast music and dance around the house whenever he wanted.

Growing up on the island, you had to become accustomed to loneliness, almost as a matter of survival. At the end of the summer season, when the last of the tourists board the ferry back to their cities or suburbs, the island becomes almost remarkably quiet. Even some permanent residents don’t brave the off seasons, choosing instead to stay with family on the mainland or on one of the larger neighboring islands.

Ten, his mom, and his sister always stayed, though. Winters were especially tough. To the summer visitors, winter on the island would be completely unrecognizable, a barren, alien wasteland. Heavy snow would settle on the sand, and the ocean would sit still, grey and endless. During storms, the ocean would roil black and angry. Violent winds would down trees and rattle the wooden slats off the boardwalk. Power outages were normal, and Ten spent most of his days during the winters checking the old pipes to make sure they weren’t freezing. The ferry would only come twice a month, bringing food and news from the mainland. Come early spring, he and Sicheng would work together to replace roof tiles and slats of the houses that were damaged in the cold winds. 

It was a lonely way to live, but Ten wouldn’t trade it for anything.

* * *

Sicheng walks into Ten’s room unannounced while Ten is in the middle of changing. If Ten ever bothered locking the door to his house, Sicheng would probably have his own key.

“Hey,” he says in his deep voice as Ten recovers from the shock of seeing Sicheng’s face suddenly appear next to his in the full-length mirror.

“Oh, you’re just the worst, aren’t you?” He shoves Sicheng, heart pounding nearly out of his chest.

“Yes.” Sicheng grins at him, then flops onto his bed to watch Ten finish getting dressed. “I like that shirt, by the way.”

Ten beams at the compliment as he finishes buttoning up the shirt. It is a black, short-sleeved linen button-up, slightly sheer, and he leaves the top open to show off the necklaces that decorate his sternum.

“Well, I should hope you like it. It’s yours,” he says to Sicheng’s reflection in the mirror. Sicheng does a double take, before scowling at Ten.

“I knew it looked familiar. My mom got me that shirt, you know.”

Ten gives him a cat-like grin. “Well, tell Mrs. Dong she has great taste.”

“I will.” Sicheng rolls off the bed and walks to Ten’s dresser to look through the disorganized pile of makeup Ten has stashed there.

“Are you wearing any of this tonight? I was going to, but I figured it’d be too dark for anyone to see it, so I didn’t bother,” Sicheng says, inspecting a stick of pink lip tint. Ten flutters his eyelashes at him, showing off the hint of smoky glitter on his eyelids. Sicheng _oohs_ at the look, then picks out a muted brown and begins smudging some onto his lower lash line.

When they finally finish getting ready, Ten grabs his phone off the kitchen counter and follows Sicheng out of the house. As they walk down the dark road to the beach, Ten interrogates him about the party.

“Who invited you? And who’s going to be there? Any of us?” By “us,” he means any of the other local kids. Some of them had left the island for college, or were out at sea with fishing crews, and a few – like Ten and Sicheng – had chosen to stay, at least for the time being.

“Taeil invited me,” Sicheng says, answering the first question. Taeil is not a local, but as the head lifeguard on the island for nine years – since he was sixteen – is as close to an honorary local as a mainlander could get. “He didn’t say if any of us would be there, and he didn’t give me any specific names. I assume just the usual crowd. But he did say that one of his good friends from back in the day would be coming, some guy who apparently hasn’t been here in, like, five years or something. He seemed pretty hyped about that.” Ten hums in response as they begin walking down the wooden steps to the beach.

The night has turned out warm and peaceful, with a cool breeze that stirs up the sand around them. Ten slides his feet out of his sandals and carries them in one hand as they walk down the beach towards the glow of the bonfire. Even from this distance, he can hear music and raucous voices over the gentle rumble of waves.

Sicheng slings his arm over Ten’s shoulder. In response, Ten winds his arm around Sicheng’s slender waist and cracks a mischievous grin up at his best friend.

“So … should I be on the lookout for any cuties for you?” he asks Sicheng. “Or are you just going for the free booze?”

Sicheng lets out a rare giggle. “Well, I can get all the alcohol I want from the restaurant, so …”

“Cuties it is, then,” Ten finishes, giving Sicheng a playful pinch. They walk the rest of the way to the bonfire, shoving each other and snickering conspiratorially.


	2. Chapter 2

“Mark, what are you wearing?” Johnny asks, eyes snapping up from his phone to where Mark is standing at the entrance of the living room.

“What? It’s beachy!” Mark whines. He pulls at the hem of his tie dye shirt, which clashes horribly with his blue and pink striped Bermuda shorts. “And Doyoung said it looked good.”

Johnny casts an exasperated glance at Doyoung, who is currently cracking up on the couch, clutching at the cushions for support.

“It certainly is ...colorful,” Johnny concedes.

Mark puffs up at this. “Dude. That’s exactly what I was going for. Ever heard of peacocking?”

“Peacocking?” Doyoung asks incredulously from his spot on the couch, still giggling and wiping tears from his eyes.

“Yeah! It’s when you wear - “

“I know what peacocking is,” Doyoung interrupts, trying to catch his breath. “I think you owe the entire species of peacock an apology for that outfit.”

Mark tuts. “Whatever, man. At least I’m not wearing beige, like _somebody_. Are you trying to camouflage into the sand or something?”

“It’s not beige, it’s camel!” Doyoung retorts. “And this shirt makes my shoulders look really broad, so.”

Johnny watches this exchange with the mildly amused patience that comes with having heard similar iterations of this exact argument dozens of times before. He knows there’s no malice behind either of their words, which is evidenced by the smile that creeps onto Mark’s face when he catches sight of his own reflection in the dark window, and the giggle when he makes eye contact with Doyoung again.

“Alright, I’m leaving.” Johnny announces, standing up and heading to the front door without a backwards glance.

“Hey! Hey, wait up!” Mark exclaims, jogging over to follow Johnny. Doyoung gets up to join them at the door. The three of them make their way outside, down the porch steps to the boardwalk that leads directly down to the beach.

When Johnny had texted Taeil earlier that day, he hadn’t fully expected a response. He hadn’t spoken to or seen the older man in six years, so he didn’t even know if Taeil still remembered him - that lanky, floppy-haired kid with braces who hung around with the other tweens, who only got brave enough to talk to Taeil and the other lifeguards when he was fifteen, his last year at the island. Taeil had unexpectedly taken Johnny under his wing that summer, and sometimes even let Johnny sit on the lifeguard chair in his place while he went to go make out with his boyfriend.

To Johnny’s surprise, Taeil had responded almost immediately to his text, sending him a string of enthusiastic messages welcoming him back, inviting him to the first beach party of the season, ending with an all-caps LETS GET IT!!!! and several of the 100 emoji.

Johnny remembers the spot well, and his muscle memory takes over as he leads Doyoung and Mark, still bickering but now with their arms around each other’s shoulders, down the dark beach in the direction of the bright glow in the distance.

The night is clear, with its scattering of stars reflected in the gently rolling expanse of pitch-black ocean. High-tide waves lap gently against the sand, leaving a patchwork of lacy foam in their wake. Johnny has an urge to take off his shoes to feel the wet sand between his toes, but he leaves them on. Something about the prospect of seeing Taeil and his other friends from back in the day - a certain face flits across his mind, a shock of red hair - now, as an adult, makes him stand a bit taller, made him check his teeth for food twice in the mirror, and made him choose a clean, white button-up to wear instead of his old sweatshirt.

The fire pit sits between a trio of massive wave breakers just past the protected nesting area, with driftwood benches set up in a semicircle around the central bonfire. A rowdy group of around twenty or thirty young adults – most seem to be university students – mill around the fire, holding red cups and cans, laughing and dancing to the music blasting from a portable speaker.

The three of them hover at the edge of the circle while Johnny scans the crowd for familiar faces. He thinks he might recognize a few, but it’s too dark, and there’s too much movement, to really tell. Someone barrels past them, knocking into Doyoung with the foot of a giggling man he has over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. The man turns back to apologize to Doyoung, and when Johnny makes eye contact with him, he startles and shirks the other man off himself, who tumbles down with a playful shriek.

“Johnny!” He exclaims, bounding over to grip Johnny’s hand in his own.

Taeil looks almost exactly the same as he did six years ago, if a bit more muscular in the chest. He is even wearing a red-and-white lifeguard sweatshirt, nearly identical to the one he always used to wear. Johnny grins widely and returns his vigorous handshake.

“Hey, how’s it going? Glad you could make it!” Taeil grins and waves as Johnny introduces him to Mark and Doyoung, who still looks slightly miffed at having been kicked in the arm. Taeil looks Johnny up and down with an impressed look. “You got so tall! What the hell? Didn’t he get so tall, Jungwoo?” At this, he turns and looks behind him at the man he had just dropped, who is still sitting in the sand. Jungwoo giggles as he rises to stand beside Taeil, wiping sand off his shorts and gripping Taeil by the upper arm for support. Just like Taeil, Jungwoo looks remarkably the same – the same soft blonde hair and delicate features – only now, he towers over Taeil, nearly at eye level with Johnny.

“He was always tall, dummy,” Jungwoo says, flashing Johnny an angelic smile.

Although Johnny and Jungwoo were never close, Jungwoo was unforgettable as that pretty, soft-spoken boy who Taeil had followed around like a lovesick puppy for years. When Jungwoo finally agreed to go out with Taeil, they had become inseparable: Taeil doting on Jungwoo like a prince, Jungwoo hanging off the lifeguard chair all day to cast doe eyes up at his boyfriend.

Taeil, with Jungwoo closely in tow, leads Johnny around the party, introducing him to nearly every person they pass on their way to the drinks table. Mark and Doyoung set off on their own; Doyoung keeps trying to drift away from Mark, who is attracting a fair number of odd looks for his outfit, but Mark keeps grabbing his arm and dragging him back to his side. Johnny quickly loses sight of them in the crowd.

Taeil pushes a cup of warm beer into Johnny’s hand, then helps himself. Although the night is cool, the swarm of bodies and the closeness of the fire makes Johnny's face start to burn up. The cheap beer only makes his flush worse, but he drains it quickly with encouragement from Taeil and starts on another, and soon his head starts to feel light with a comfortable tipsy feeling. He allows Taeil to drag him to an emptier spot by one of the wave breakers, and they settle onto a worn-out looking split log bench. Jungwoo perches on Taeil’s lap and plays with his hair as he and Johnny catch up, drifting from one amiable conversation topic to another.

As he is telling Taeil about his plans for after graduation, Johnny’s eyes catch on a figure standing not too far from where they are. Through the haze of his tipsy brain, he recognizes the figure as the familiar-looking cashier from the general store who ignored him and almost laughed at him for dropping the beer. The boy is dancing, holding the hands of a slender man who seems very disinterested in dancing with him. The cashier swings the other man’s arms in circles, spinning his body around him, and laughing wildly. His earrings catch the moonlight and his eyes sparkle in the reflected firelight. Johnny is mesmerized.

He realizes he had stopped talking, staring slack-jawed at the boy, when Taeil clears his throat. Johnny blushes and mumbles out a, “sorry, what was I saying?” in an attempt to restart the conversation, but Taeil swivels in his seat to follow Johnny’s gaze. A dangerous grin spreads across his face and, before Johnny can stop him, he yells out, “hey, Ten!”

And then it clicks.

_Ten_. Johnny hadn’t recognized him earlier that day at the store, hadn’t been able to match the face to a name, even though he knew the man looked so familiar. Memories come flooding back to him now, though – a skinny, mischievous boy with a sweep of shockingly bright red hair, who always hung around with this one quiet kid who lived on the island with him. The boy who wouldn’t give Johnny a second look, even when Johnny was the MVP in their beach volleyball game, who just giggled and ran away when Johnny approached him and offered him a strawberry popsicle on a particularly hot day. The boy who would sometimes hang around with Johnny’s group of friends but seemed to prefer running around the island barefoot all day by himself. Johnny had been young then, just a kid, and even though he tried to ignore the crush – Ten was too cool for him, too loud, too everything – he couldn’t help but feel that leap in his chest on those rare occasions when Ten would meet his gaze by accident.

Over the years, like all things do, it faded into the background of Johnny’s mind. He moved on, swept up in the whirlwind of middle school crushes, then eventually his high school relationships. He hadn’t thought about Ten in years, probably.

Yet looking at him now, walking over to where he, Taeil, and Jungwoo were sitting, he feels those same feelings of his childhood, those silly butterflies in his stomach, rise and threaten to overtake him. He tries to swallow them down.

Ten looks good. He is no longer skinny – on the contrary, through the maddening sheerness of his top, Johnny sees a lithe chest, with a collection of silver necklaces that plunge down into the open neck of his shirt, accentuating his form. When he comes closer – _oh god, he’s coming closer –_ Johnny can see a sweep of smoky glitter on his eyes that seems to give him a permanent sultry look. The ridiculous red hair has been replaced with a shiny black, now styled into a fashionably messy sweep over his forehead.

Ten comes to a stop in front of Taeil, closely followed by the handsome man he had just been dancing with. The other man looks familiar, too – he must be Ten’s quiet friend from back in the day. Johnny doesn’t remember his name, though. He doesn’t think he ever spoke more than a full sentence to either of them in all the years he was here.

“Ten, Sicheng! You’ve got to meet my friend Johnny,” Taeil says, clapping Johnny firmly on the shoulder. “This dude is the best. We go way back. In fact,” he continues, “I wonder if you all ever met. He used to come here with his family, a few years back. I think he’s around your age.”

Sicheng casts him a polite smile. Ten does the same, and his gaze lingers on Johnny for just a moment, eyes flicking from his face to his broad shoulders, before turning back to Taeil.

“No, I don’t remember him,” he says. Johnny sees no recognition in his face. Not even a pause, or a furrowed brow, any hint that he recognized Johnny from their encounter earlier that day at the store, either. Johnny’s heart sinks.

He stands up from the bench, suddenly dizzy. Taeil and Jungwoo look up at him quizzically.

“I got to go, sorry – I got to go find Mark. Need to make sure he didn’t fall into the fire by accident,” he mumbles, dropping his empty cup into the sand and avoiding looking at Ten at all costs. He walks away before anyone can respond, then casts a quick wave over his shoulder. “Nice to meet you,” he mutters in the general direction behind him, before stumbling off into the dancing crowd.

_Shit. What the hell was that?_ Out of eyeshot of Taeil and his friends, Johnny feels a sudden surge of embarrassment. He was acting like a kid, a bumbling, stuttering tween who couldn’t talk to a cute guy without shooting himself in the foot. He is certainly no stranger to flirtation, either. At school, pretty much all he had to do was puff himself up to his full height and quirk a devilish smile, and he had whoever he wanted. So why is he acting like this? Ten hadn’t even said so much as a word to him, and now he probably thinks Johnny is a rude asshole, a typical mainland rich kid.

_Whatever. It’s not like he remembers me anyway_ , Johnny thinks gruffly. And, he reminds himself, he came to the island for himself and to hang out with Mark and Doyoung, not to get a date or get laid.

He searches through the throng of bodies until his eyes catch on an eye-watering pop of color several yards away. If Mark’s ridiculous outfit is good for anything, it’s good for keeping track of him.

Johnny walks over to Mark, who is standing by the keg with Doyoung. When he approaches, Mark barely seems to notice, as he keeps casting furtive glances over Doyoung’s shoulder.

“Oh, thank god you’re here,” Doyoung says when he spots Johnny. “Can you help Mark, please? He’s annoying me.”

“Dude, it’s not my fault!” Mark looks pleadingly up at Johnny. “I think some guy wants to fight me. He keeps staring at me and giving me weird looks.”

Johnny turns to follow Mark’s gaze over Doyoung’s shoulder into the crowd beyond, but Mark grabs his arm and twists him back, hissing, “not now! He’s looking!” Doyoung rolls his eyes and turns around fully, ignoring Mark’s protests, to point at a man with floppy brown hair standing by the fire, currently sending a wide smile in their direction. The man gives a friendly wave when he sees Doyoung pointing at him.

“Uh … I think he’s just smiling at you?” Johnny says to Mark, who is attempting to hide behind Johnny’s tall frame.

“You didn’t see him earlier, he was giving me the stink-eye, I swear. Dude’s evil,” Mark says with a shudder.

“Right,” Johnny says, raising his eyebrows down at Mark. “Anyways … you guys want to drink more? Or should we head back, I’m getting kind of tired.”

“What happened to your friend? That Taeil guy?” Doyoung asks him.

Johnny shrugs his shoulders in a motion he hopes seems nonchalant. “Yeah, I was just chilling with him and his boyfriend. He’s still cool. But he knows everyone at this party, so he had to go off and greet everyone,” he says. “And I have all summer to catch up with him, so I didn’t want to be hanging onto him all night.”

“Yeah, let’s go before I get kidnapped,” Mark says, eyeing the crowd again, although the floppy-haired man has disappeared.

Later that night, Johnny lays in his bed, listening to Doyoung’s snoring next to him and the gentle crash of waves from the beach below. His head is still spinning, and only partly from the alcohol that still lingers in his system.

He goes to sleep with the flash of the bonfire still burning bright behind his eyelids. A flash of something else, too, burns in his mind – silver earrings and a white smile, sparkling maddeningly in the blue moonlight.


	3. Chapter 3

Ten shifts up on his bed, pulling the laptop with him to make room for Sicheng. Sicheng sets the two steaming mugs of tea on Ten’s bedside table then settles comfortably down next to him. This is their Friday night tradition, which has lasted for more years than Ten can even remember. When they were kids, it was watching VHS tapes on the old boxy television in Sicheng’s living room, huddled up under blankets and eating sour candy; now, they curl up on Ten’s bed to watch a movie on his computer, accompanied by wine or tea, depending on their mood. As Ten’s head is still buzzing from the cheap beer, it is a chamomile kind of night.

Sicheng leans his head on Ten’s shoulder to watch him scroll through the movie options. He lifts his hand to point to the screen, then brings it back to his mouth in a failed attempt to stifle a massive yawn.

“Sleepy?” Ten says into the top of Sicheng’s hair. “It’s only two, you can’t be tired yet.”

Sicheng shakes his head, but the heavy drooping of his eyelids would seem to indicate otherwise.

“How ‘bout that one?” he mumbles.

“Which one? You didn’t even point to anything. You’re not even looking at the screen,” Ten says, jostling Sicheng’s head with his shoulder. Sicheng lets out a sleepy groan.

“You’re so lame,” Ten says in response, but he closes the laptop gently and reaches over to shut off the lamp on his nightstand. He passes one of the cups of tea to Sicheng, who barely manages to sip it without spilling. He lets his friend take his good pillow, then carefully climbs off the bed. Ten knows how many hours Sicheng works to manage the restaurant – including the hours he spends technically off the clock, dealing with finances or personal issues with the staff – yet Sicheng always tries his best to stay awake during their movie nights, no matter how tired he is.

“I need to take off my makeup, don’t go to sleep without me,” he whispers loudly back at Sicheng’s lumpy form. Sicheng makes another sleepy noise that sounds something like “okay,” even as he curls deeper under Ten’s sheets. 

Ten grabs a hand towel and makeup wipes from his dresser and walks down the dark hallway to the bathroom. The night is cool, and he shivers slightly when he steps on the cold tiles in front of the sink. He lets the water run warm before soaking the towel and using it to pat his face and neck, then takes out a makeup wipe and begins to remove the dark glitter from his eyelids.

The makeup was for him, and only for him. Even though he knew how alluring it made him look, how the smoky, sultry color seemed to give him permanent bedroom eyes that attracted a certain kind of attention, it was only for himself.

As a kid, he had collected fashion and beauty magazines like they were made of gold, keeping them stashed in a precious shoebox under the bottom bunk of the bed he shared with his sister. The general store never sold them, so he would have to practically beg his aunt to bring him one whenever she visited from the mainland. He would spend breathless nights under his blanket with a flashlight, gazing with wonder at the beautiful people who lived in the pages of the magazine, who stared back at him with their bright lipstick and clothes from brands he couldn’t pronounce. The magazines were like a secret window into the world beyond the island.

When his sister was sleeping, he used to take a stick of eyeliner from her dresser – an old brown one at the bottom of a drawer, which he was sure she never used – and sneak it into the bathroom to practice, smudging it over his eyelids until his eyes watered from the pressure. He always marveled at how he seemed to become a different person – still himself, sure, but older, more confident. It was certainly different from everyone else who lived on the island.

So, yes – the makeup was for himself, and he loved it. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t also enjoy the perks, that he couldn’t enjoy the attention of a tall, handsome stranger who ogled at him dancing and thought he wouldn’t notice.

What had Taeil said his name was? James? Although Ten said he didn’t remember the man, that was sort of a lie. He did remember seeing him in the store earlier – the man was one of the last customers of the day, and even though Ten was very much absorbed in his book, he couldn’t help but glance up at the man’s tall frame as he searched through the bread aisle, easily reaching the rolls on the top shelf. His t-shirt had ridden up when he did this, exposing the faintest hint of tanned muscle underneath.

Ten really just hadn’t remembered seeing this mystery man before today, so he thought it might seem impolite to say, “oh yeah, I totally remember you. I was spying on you at the general store earlier - you were that hot guy grabbing the buns in aisle five, and I have another pair of buns for you to grab, if you know what I mean.” Probably not the best introduction.

But the man had left so suddenly after Taeil’s introduction that Ten is sure he must have just imagined his interest. Oh well, his loss.

When he finishes cleaning his face and rubbing a layer of lotion into his skin, he flicks off the lights to the bathroom and pads back to his room. He clambers over Sicheng and flops down on him with his full weight. Sicheng yelps and squirms weakly to try to shake Ten off him.

“Good, you’re awake,” Ten says, laughing. He rolls off Sicheng onto the other side of the bed, then lifts the blankets to crawl in next to his friend. Sicheng’s eyes are shut tightly, but Ten can see him trying to suppress a smile.

“You’re an ass,” Sicheng whispers to him. In response, Ten pats him lovingly on the cheek and rolls into his friend’s warm body.

When he closes his eyes, he realizes how tired he really is. Before he can fully drift off, he nudges Sicheng. No response.

“Winwin?” he tries again, using his nickname for Sicheng. Sicheng hums.

“What was that guy’s name? The one Taeil introduced us to?”

Without opening his eyes, Sicheng responds, “Johnny.” _Right, Johnny._

“Thanks,” he whispers.

“And we have met him before.” Ten startles, not expecting Sicheng to continue.

“We have? When?”

But Sicheng doesn’t answer. He has finally fallen asleep, his breathing becoming slower and quieter. Ten drops it for now, but he lays awake for a while after, letting his thoughts fall into the steady rhythm of Sicheng’s heartbeat.

* * *

Ten stares into the depths of his mug, blinking sleepily at the last dregs of sugary coffee that have settled at the bottom. The lights of the general store seem brighter than normal. He groans, lifting off his glasses to dig his palms into his eyes. The general store owner – Sicheng’s uncle, incidentally - must be some kind of sadist for making Ten open the store at nine a.m. on a Saturday morning. Sadist or not, Ten must admit, the owner has good business sense; vacationers start coming through the door as soon as the store opens every Saturday and Sunday morning to pick up a copy of the local paper, a to-go cup of coffee or a freshly-baked pastry.

Ten is startled out of his sleepy reverie by the sound of acrylic nails tapping on the counter. He looks up to see a woman staring down at him, lips pulled in a courteous but cold smile. He notices a small line forming behind her, although the other patrons don’t look quite as impatient, instead happy to chat or sip their drinks as they wait. She pushes her items – coffee and an egg tart – farther towards him across the counter and hands him a wad of bills.

“Sorry, I’ll ring you up right away,” he mumbles, sitting up and grabbing the bills from her outstretched hand. She leaves without thanking him or tipping. He helps the other customers – there were only two people waiting behind her – then rests his chin on the counter with a sigh, staring distractedly at a scratch in the plastic surface. He thinks reproachfully of how comfortable and peaceful Sicheng looked in his bed when he left earlier that morning, and the thought just makes him even more tired. Surely no one would notice if he just closed his eyes for a few seconds …

“Hey! Uh, excuse me?”

That voice sounds familiar. Ten yawns, not even bothering to cover it, then lifts his chin off the counter to begin ringing up the two bottles of iced coffee in front of him. The price tags look a bit blurry, so he puts his glasses back on and squints until the numbers come into focus, then punches the price into the register.

“That’ll be 7.50,” he says, pushing the bottles back to the other side of the counter. He finally raises his eyes to take the card from the customer’s outstretched hand and is surprised to see Johnny smiling back at him.

“Oh, hi, uh …”

“It’s Johnny,” says Johnny.

“Right. Hi, Johnny. Will this be all?” Ten asks, putting on his most professional half-smile, plucking the card from his fingers and pushing it into the card reader.

He is surprised that Johnny even recognizes him this morning. Compared to last night’s slinky, sheer black get-up and nightclub eyeshadow, this morning Ten had barely managed to fumble into an old sweatshirt and his glasses, not even bothering to brush his hair. Johnny also looks more casual this morning than he did at the party, having traded his sharp white shirt for a loose black tee and backwards baseball cap. This looks suits him more, Ten thinks, eyes absently flicking to the tanned biceps visible below the short sleeves of the shirt. His awkwardness seems to be gone, too, as he stands at his full height above where Ten sits on the stool, one hand casually in his shorts pocket. He hadn’t even faltered at Ten’s curt response, like he had the night before. 

Johnny takes back his card and gathers up the coffees, holding both in one large hand. “By the way, I returned the wagon,” he says, showing no signs of leaving. “Thanks a lot for lending it to me, it really helped. It was a bit hard to pull over the boardwalk, though, the wheels kept getting caught between the loose boards … ” He clears his throat and turns away to gesture vaguely in the direction of the front door. “Anyways, I just left it out front, next to the bulletin board. Is that fine, or should I move it somewhere else?”

Maybe the awkwardness wasn’t completely gone, after all. “Yeah, it’s okay to leave it there,” Ten says, meeting Johnny’s gaze again.

“Cool.” Johnny nods, looking like he is about to say something else, but he doesn’t. He starts at the chime of the bell above the door as a young family enters, then nods again. “Alright, see you around,” he says, lifting his free hand in a quick wave before leaving the store.

According to Sicheng, he had met Johnny before yesterday. He racks his brain, sifting through a zoetrope of faces, trying to recall any particularly tall guys with plush-looking lips and a strong brow. None stand out in his memory; although, this isn’t too surprising. To a mainland visitor, every moment on the island might be a precious childhood memory, every connection one to remember with fond nostalgia. For Ten, though, the summers are an endless parade of faces, and they all start to blend together over the years.

Sure, there are a few that stand that out. Lucas, behind the firehouse, all giant bumbling hands and toothy grins. Taeyong, under the pier at low tide, timid yet tender. Inevitably, though, they all board the last summer ferry back to the rest of the continent, back to their real lives. Promises made and forgotten. Why would Johnny be any different from the others?

Before he can get too swept up in the angst that this dangerous train of thought always brings, Sicheng’s uncle bustles out of the back room, swinging through the double doors, and casts a sharp glance across the store at Ten. Ten sits up and chugs the last of his coffee (which he does before remembering it is nothing but dregs), then straightens out the display of boutique sunscreens on the counter in an attempt to look busy. It works, and Sicheng’s uncle strides over to the deli counter to bother Yangyang, the part-time employee, instead.

At noon, Ten is relieved of his shift by Yangyang. Hungry and bored, he wanders next door to the restaurant out of habit. The place is packed for brunch; all the tables, even the ones outside in the unforgiving midday sun, are filled by chattering customers. Ten hovers by the hostess station, peering around for Sicheng. Finally, he spots his friend talking to a group of waiters by the entrance to the kitchen. He walks over, carefully scooting around tables and dodging waiters.

“ … yes, we just ran out of the smoked salmon. There’s salted trout in the freezer, the head chef knows where to find it. You can just recommend that instead.” Sicheng looks up when he sees Ten approach. “Alright, you’re dismissed.”

“What’s for lunch?” Ten asks him, leaning around him to peer through the kitchen window as the waiters disperse.

Sicheng crosses his arms and looks down at Ten. “There’s some extra lobster bisque, if you want it, but - ” Upon hearing the word “lobster” Ten is already halfway through the door to the kitchen. “But,” Sicheng continues, grabbing Ten’s arm and pulling him back, “I told you, you can’t keep coming during business hours. It doesn’t look very professional for me to keeping letting my friends eat for free.”

Ten gives him a shrewd look. “Friends, plural?” he asks, dragging out the final sound.

Sicheng pauses, then lets out an exasperated sigh. “Okay, it’s just you, but still. Make it quick. And don’t let my dad see.”

“Thanks, darling,” Ten sings, shaking off the hand that Sicheng still has on his arm. “Oh yeah, that Johnny guy came into the store earlier.”

Sicheng doesn’t give much of a reaction to this information. “Well, it is the only store on the island,” he says.

“Yeah, but he was being weird again. What’s his deal, anyway?”

Sicheng pats Ten lightly on the shoulder. “Well, you _were_ kind of rude to him last night.”

Ten scoffs. “Me, rude?” He pauses to consider. “Okay, maybe I was slightly less than friendly, but I wouldn’t call that rude. He is kind of hot, though,” he adds as an afterthought.

Sicheng smiles knowingly at him. “Mhm. Just get your soup and go. I’ve got a business to run, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Ten had noticed, and he was undyingly proud of his best friend, but that wouldn’t stop him from continuing to pop in unannounced just to bother him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how did i intend to make johnny really cool and confident but end up with a giant awkward teddy bear instead


	4. Chapter 4

Johnny sets off just before sunrise, careful not to wake Doyoung as he rummages around the dark bedroom for his clothes. He closes the door behind him tenderly, minding the squeaking of the old hinges, before making his way to the top of the steps that lead down to the beach below. This early, the world is still and dark, although the faintest hint of pink is visible just above the horizon line of the ocean. A soft breeze stirs up Johnny’s hair as he stands and looks out over the water beyond, which seems completely still in the low light of the morning.

Unsurprisingly, there is no one else on the beach now; at this moment, Johnny feels like the only living thing on the island. The only other visible movement is the rhythmic flashing of the lighthouse on the northeastern tip of the island.

Like a ship following a beacon, he begins jogging in the direction of the lighthouse. He had always loved running in the dark, whether at night or in the early morning. Something about the darkness makes his body feel light, and his muscles always feel less fatigued than when he runs during the daytime. Now, all he can focus on is the dull pounding of his feet on the sand and the fresh salty air that enters his lungs when he inhales. The insistent crashing of the waves to his right, almost invisible in the deep indigo light, is the white noise soundtrack that pushes any thoughts out of his mind.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been running, but by the time he makes it to the very end of the beach just below the rocky outcropping that houses the lighthouse, the sun has already risen, scattering its buttery orange rays over the ocean.

Panting, Johnny slows to a stop. He rests his arms behind his head and breathes in deep, letting the chilly morning air cool the sweat off his forehead. His calves are burning like crazy – he had completely forgotten how hard it is to run on sand. While he was running it felt effortless, but the extra strain catches up to his muscles when he slows down. He continues, now walking slowly right along the water’s edge, letting the gentle morning waves lick at the soles of his running shoes.

He sinks into the sand in the shadow of the lighthouse, lying flat on his back and closing his eyes. He lies there for a moment, feeling the dampness of the sand that presses into the skin of his arms, completely calm. Idly, he thinks that he might like to bring someone here with him to this spot below the lighthouse, even though it is nice to be here alone, too. 

* * *

By the time Johnny returns to the house, morning has fully come and Doyoung and Mark are both awake. Doyoung sits at the kitchen counter eating a bagel and reading the local paper, while Mark lounges on the couch, munching on a banana and watching TV.

They both look up when he walks through the door, covered in sweat, but neither are surprised by his sudden appearance. As Johnny’s roommates for years, they are both familiar with his early morning habits.

“How is it out?” Doyoung asks Johnny as he enters the kitchen and opens the refrigerator, leaning down to peer inside. Mark twists around on the couch to listen.

“Really nice,” Johnny says, grabbing one of the bottles of iced coffee he had bought the previous morning. He pours it into a glass and takes a long gulp, then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “We should go the beach today. The waves looked really calm, too, so we should be able to swim.”

“Ooh yeah, let’s go!” Mark exclaims from his spot the couch.

“Let’s go early, before the crowds get there,” Doyoung says. He looks over his paper at Mark. “Mark, why don’t you go and save us a good spot, and I can make lunches.”

“On it!” Mark says, hopping up and practically skipping to the door. He then abruptly turns on his heel, heading back in the direction of his room. “Gotta get my bathing suit first.”

Johnny follows him, instead heading upstairs to shower and change. By the time he comes back downstairs, toweling his hair dry, Doyoung has cooler already half-full of sandwiches and drinks for their lunch later in the day. From the closet, Johnny grabs a slightly torn beach umbrella with a faded fish pattern, two beach chairs, and a stack of striped beach towels, then he and Doyoung head out to meet Mark.

It is still relatively early, so Mark is one of only a few people on the beach. Mark waves them over to a spot not too far from the staircase by their house, right in front of the fence that separates the beach from the dune.

“Aren’t we a little far from the water?” Doyoung asks Mark when they get close, looking skeptically around the spot Mark has chosen.

“No, no, this is perfect,” Mark argues. “You don’t want to be too close, because when high tide comes all of our stuff will get wet and we’ll have to move back. And,” he says, leaning conspiratorially towards Johnny, “this way, we have a view of everyone who comes onto the beach. We can keep an out eye for, you know, _interesting individuals_.” He wiggles and eyebrows and tries to wink.

“Interesting individuals,” Johnny repeats, sharing an eye roll with Doyoung. But, the thought of a particular such individual crosses his mind, so he drops the towels by Mark’s feet and, with Mark’s help, starts trying to jam the umbrella into the sand. Eventually they get the pole in far enough to stand up on its own and, despite the holes in the fabric, it actually provides a fair amount of shade.

They settle down, each with his own preferred way to spend a beach day. Doyoung is the only of them who ends up using the umbrella. He has brought his newspaper with him and sits reclined on a beach chair, fully in the shade yet still wearing a hat and sunglasses. Mark sits for a few minutes in the sun next to Johnny, but quickly loses patience and bounds over to the water. Without even testing the temperature of the water first – in early July, the water is usually not much warmer than freezing – he runs in past the small waves and dives into the first big wave that comes, then swims out just past the breakers to the calmer water beyond. He floats on his back and propels himself around with just his arms; Johnny thinks he looks like a very happy squid.

Johnny sets up his chair next to Doyoung’s but in the sun. Mark had been right – it turns out to be a great spot for people-watching. Not long after they settle in, more and more people – families, groups of friends, a few elderly couples – start arriving with towels and coolers in tow. Most groups set up near the lifeguard stands, so their spot by the fence ends up staying relatively secluded from the growing crowd.

Johnny looks at the people who meander down the beach, some walking dogs or chatting with friends. A group of older teens starts playing frisbee in the shallows, shouting boisterously at each other. He spots a few familiar faces – mostly friends of his from little gang back in the day, other city kids like him. In all honesty, he doesn’t remember any of their names, so he tries not to make eye contact in case they recognize him and come over to chat.

The morning passes with the leisurely pace of the early summer sun. Johnny spends most of his morning chilling out in the sunlight, shifting occasionally onto his stomach or his back to even out his tan. At one point he walks down to the water for a quick dip, which he quickly regrets when his teeth start chattering as soon as he gets out.

Mark finally comes out of the water, somehow completely unbothered and not dying of hypothermia, to join Johnny and Doyoung under the umbrella for lunch – Doyoung’s specialty, egg sandwiches.

“This is good,” Mark says enthusiastically through a giant mouthful of sandwich. He stuffs another half into his mouth, and Doyoung looks disgusted but pleased. Johnny hums in agreement and looks around the beach as he savors the food. His eyes pass over the lifeguard stand by the water and he sees a female lifeguard he doesn’t recognize standing at the base of the chair, talking to whoever is sitting in it. The person in the chair hands her the red rescue buoy and hops down into the sand, then the woman climbs up to take his place. When the man turns in his direction, Johnny recognizes him – Taeil.

Taeil waves, and Johnny thinks he is waving at him before he realizes that he seems to be looking at someone just past him, a bit farther down the beach and closer to the water. Johnny turns his head to be sure that Taeil isn’t actually waving at him, and his stomach flips over.

Walking down the beach towards them comes – of all people – Ten and his quiet, handsome friend Sicheng. They are both in swim trunks – Sicheng with only shorts and no top, while Ten wears shorts with a billowy white shirt that just barely covers his chest.

Doyoung follows his gaze. “Do you know those guys?” he asks.

But Johnny doesn’t answer, because at that moment Ten and Sicheng pass by their umbrella and Ten happens to glance in their direction. He is wearing dark sunglasses, so Johnny can’t tell for sure if Ten sees him, or if their eyes meet, because he just turns his head back and continues down the beach. When they are several yards away, Ten leans close to Sicheng and whispers something in his ear, and Sicheng seems like he is about to turn his head in Johnny’s direction before Ten whispers something else and they keep walking towards Taeil. 

“Johnny?” Johnny finally drags his eyes away from them to look back at Doyoung. Both Doyoung and Mark and looking at him with interest. “Do you know them?” Doyoung repeats.

He isn’t quite sure how to answer this question. “Uh … sort of, I guess?” He decides to go with honesty. “Well, I kind of know the shorter guy – the one in the white shirt – from back when I used to come here with my family. I think he lives here year-round.” He grins sheepishly. “I may have had a crush on him when I was, like, twelve.”

“What?” Mark exclaims, and even Doyoung looks intrigued. “Dude, you have to go talk to him.”

“Nah, that would be weird,” Johnny says, sneaking another glance in Ten and Sicheng’s direction. They have made it to Taeil and are now standing around and chatting next to the lifeguard stand. “Actually, I talked to him at the party. And yesterday morning at the general store. He definitely doesn’t remember me.”

“So?” Mark says. “You can still talk to him. You know, jog his memory a little.” He winks, not for the first time that day.

“Who’s that guy he’s with?” Doyoung asks. Johnny looks back over at the group and sees that Sicheng is leaning his elbow on Ten’s shoulder. “Are they dating?” _Dating?_ For some reason, this idea had not occurred to Johnny until this moment. He thinks back to the party, at how closely the two had been dancing, and how Sicheng seemed to follow Ten around, even back when they were kids. Sicheng is no scrub, either; with his shirt off, Johnny can clearly see his lean, muscular body that complements his princely features. From a purely objective view, Ten and Sicheng make quite the attractive pair.  


“Doyoung, don’t say that,” Mark says, looking pointedly at Johnny.

“What? I was just asking,” Doyoung mutters.

“Anyway,” Mark says, putting his half-eaten sandwich back on its paper plate. “Why don’t you go say hi? He’s with Taeil, so there’s your reason for going over. And you can find out what the other guy’s deal is – for Doyoung, of course.” Doyoung looks affronted but doesn’t argue.

Johnny hesitates. “I don’t know …”

Mark stands abruptly, sending a shower of sand onto the sandwich in Johnny’s hand. “Okay, then I’ll go if you’re being a baby about it.”

“What? No, no, no,” Johnny hisses, grabbing Mark’s arm and jerking him back down. “Okay, okay, I’ll go. But not because you told me.” Mark looks infinitely pleased with himself.

Johnny grabs his sunglasses and places them on his nose, then changes his mind and takes them off. He stands and is about to walk over before he decides that it would be best to use all his assets to his advantage. When he peels his shirt over his head and tosses it onto his towel, Mark whistles and even Doyoung smirks a little. Johnny makes a face at them. Then, before he can lose his nerve, he squares his shoulders, flexes his biceps, and sets off down the beach.

* * *

When he gets within several strides of the lifeguard stand, Taeil notices him and waves him over enthusiastically. Ten and Sicheng turn to look at him approaching. Johnny isn’t sure, but he thinks he sees Sicheng smirk a little. Ten’s expression is still unreadable through the dark lenses of his sunglasses.

“Hey, man, what’s up?” Taeil says, giving Johnny a friendly clap on the back.

“Hey,” Johnny responds, nodding at Sicheng and Ten. Up close, he notices that Ten has traded the many silver earrings on his left ear for two small gold hoops. They look nice. “I was just hanging out with Mark and Doyoung all morning – ” he gestures with his thumb over his shoulder – “and I thought I’d see what’s going on over here.”

“Oh, cool!” Taeil says. “Sorry, I didn’t see you guys. I was here on-duty all morning.” He looks back at where Mark and Doyoung are sitting under their umbrella, where Mark is shamelessly staring at them. “Ten and Sicheng just joined me, we were going to go for a walk down the beach. Do you want to –”

In the middle of his sentence, Taeil’s gaze is suddenly drawn away from Johnny’s face and his eyes widen.

“Oh no, not again,” he mutters, pulling his whistle from his pocket. “It’s those damn teens. They keep bringing beer onto the beach.” He shakes his head. “I’ve already confiscated it once from them this week. They’re back at it again, the little bastards.” He gives Johnny an apologetic smile. “Let’s hang out another time, though! I’ll text you the next time we’re having a party.” He runs off at a surprisingly quick pace, blowing his whistle at a large group of teens, who frantically start burying cans of beer in the sand and trying to hide the rest of it under towels. As the rest of the teens scatter, Taeil starts chasing one kid – who must by the ringleader – down the beach in the opposite direction, blowing his whistle and shouting at him. Another kid tries to pull his attention, but Taeil just brushes him off and follows his first target with all the intensity of a bloodhound, weaving in and out of groups of people until he is completely obscured in the maze of colorful umbrellas.

The three of them watch this spectacle until they can no longer see Taeil. They stand around looking at each other, in a slightly awkward silence without their mutual friend. Johnny, not normally one for shyness, finds himself at a complete loss for words under Ten’s steely gaze. Surprisingly, it is Sicheng who speaks first. 

He glances down at his watch. “Oh, look at the time. I need to go deal with dinner prep – the Sunday evening rush, you know how it is.”

Ten raises a perfectly angled brow at his friend. “It’s noon,” he says flatly.

Sicheng laughs anxiously. “Ha, yeah I know, but the restaurant just got a huge haul of oysters this morning, and I need to make sure they all get shucked.” He raises his eyebrows meaningfully back at Ten, then looks at Johnny with an elfin smile. “Nice to see you, Johnny,” he says, then skedaddles away before Ten can respond. Ten looks like he wants to murder him.

Again, they are left alone in an awkward silence. Ten is still glaring in the direction of Sicheng with a look mixed with disbelief and something else Johnny can’t identify. Johnny is sure Ten must be able to hear his heart pounding out of his chest. This close, he becomes suddenly aware of their height difference, which only makes his stupid heart pound faster. If they hugged, Ten’s head would probably nestle somewhere just under Johnny’s chin, and his soft stomach would be right around Johnny’s waist, maybe a little lower …

“Do you still want to go for that walk?” Johnny blurts out, right as Ten says, “I guess I’ll go sunbathe.”

“Oh – ” Ten says.

“Do you –“

Johnny suddenly feels like a twelve-year-old in a twenty-one-year-old’s body. But a little awkwardness never killed anybody (probably), so he pushes through and tries again.

“Taeil said you were going to go for a walk, that sounds like a great idea,” he says. “Mind if I join you?”

Ten just stares at him for a few moments, then looks over to where Sicheng had just been, then looks back at Johnny. He pushes his sunglasses onto his head, and for the first time that day, Johnny can see his eyes. Even without the dark makeup, his features have an enigmatic quality, like he knows all of Johnny’s secrets and wouldn’t be afraid to use them to get what he wants. Ten’s eyes flick over Johnny’s exposed torso, then back up to his face.

“Fine,” he says, and before Johnny can process his answer, turns on his heel and begins walking towards the water.

“Really?” Johnny asks, a little dazed. He turns and looks in the direction of Mark and Doyoung, who are still watching with intense interest. They both give him a thumbs-up.

Johnny collects himself and jogs to catch up with Ten, falling into pace next to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eyy things are finally happening
> 
> next time ... they actually have a real conversation!


	5. Chapter 5

Ten is going to kill Sicheng.

When Sicheng takes off down the beach with his flimsy excuse – _oysters, my ass_ , Ten thinks – it takes everything in his power not to run off after his friend and tackle him into the sand for his treachery.

And yet, something keeps him rooted to the spot. Maybe it is out of politeness, or the guilt for how curt he has been with Johnny the last two times they talked. Maybe it is Johnny’s impressive figure, his wide chest and tree trunk arms, or his towering frame that nearly blocks out the sun. Or maybe it is his goofy, hopeful smile, which seems so at odds with his muscular body.

So, out of the goodness of his cold, dead heart, he agrees to let Johnny join him on the walk. He turns away quickly to hide the blush that creeps up his face, making Johnny run to catch up with him. Johnny’s legs are so long, though, that he catches up in only a few easy strides. 

As is typical around midday, this area of the beach is packed. They walk beside each other in silence, although something about this silence feels more natural than it had when they were just standing around. Ten sneaks a sideways glance at Johnny, who is looking around with vague interest at the people on the beach and in the water.

They walk side-by-side like this for another ten minutes or so until they wind up at a quieter part of the beach. Here, the strip of sand is narrower and rockier, and the waves are a bit rougher, so only a few intrepid beachgoers have made it this far out. 

They pass by a lone lifeguard chair, where the young lifeguard lounges with her legs thrown up over the side, drumming her fingers on her thigh. As they pass, the young woman sits up straighter to peer at them, then waves enthusiastically at Johnny. Johnny starts, then smiles and gives her a small wave back.

“Do you know her?” Ten asks, speaking for the first time as they continue past the chair.

Johnny looks down at him, although if he is surprised to hear Ten suddenly speak, he doesn’t show it. “Oh, yeah, sort of. She’s the older sister of one of my friends, some guy I hung out with when I used to come to the island as a kid.”

“She’s cute,” Ten ventures, casting a glance back at the blonde woman, who is now back to reclining in her chair with a look of pure boredom.

“Uh, I guess,” Johnny says. “By the way, how do you know Taeil?”

Ten meets his gaze for a moment. “I feel like everyone knows Taeil,” he says. Johnny chuckles in agreement. “Actually, I don’t really remember when I first met him, but he’s been the head lifeguard here forever, so it was only natural that our paths crossed at some point.”

Johnny nods. “Yeah, same here. I feel like I have a crazy story about him from every year I’ve been here. Like this one time when he almost got fired for trying to hook up with Jungwoo in the ocean during his shift.”

Despite himself, Ten giggles, suddenly caught up in the memory. “Oh my god, I remember that too. Jungwoo acted like he was drowning, and Taeil swam out to pretend to save him. And they stayed out there for like, way longer than necessary, and everyone was fucking furious at them.”

Johnny laughs loudly. “Yeah, that was awful,” he says. “But kind of awesome.”

“Definitely awful,” Ten says. They fall back into silence, although the tentative familiarity brought by the shared memory lingers. They continue south down the beach, carefully sidestepping driftwood logs and large matted piles of seaweed that have collected on the sand. Here, the dunes are flatter, and the houses are fewer and far between. To their right, the beach slopes up to a concrete slab dotted with wild heather growing out of the cracks in the surface. A small brick building with a corrugated tin roof sits atop the slope, with a two-seat swing set moving lazily in the wind next to it, facing the ocean. The place is empty save for a little boy biking in circles around the flagpole in the yard. The boy looks up and bikes away when he sees them.

Ten notices Johnny eyeing the building. For Ten, his old school building is completely unremarkable, if not an eyesore on this otherwise quiet part of the island, one of the only few places left untouched by the tourist crowd. At night, the schoolyard is a popular place for teens – evidenced by the empty beer cans and joints left there in the morning – but in the summer, it is usually left abandoned during the daytime.

Johnny slows to a stop next to him, then gestures up at the building. “Want to go check it out?” he asks, that goofy smiling starting to creep back onto his face.

“Sure,” Ten responds, after a moment’s hesitation. The school doesn’t hold bad memories, but for some reason he feels a little weird about going there with Johnny. He gets a sudden flash of a memory – playing tag in the yard during the summer with a group of both local and non-local kids; getting chased by a tall boy whose name he didn’t know until he almost threw up from laughing so hard. 

They make their way up the weathered steps to the concrete schoolyard. Johnny looks around with interest, then walks over to the swing set and squeezes into one of the swings. He is almost too big to fit into the narrow rubber seat, but not too big to keep him from trying. He grabs the chain of the other seat to keep it still, then holds it out to Ten, rattling it a bit. Ten rolls his eyes, but he bites back a smile as he joins Johnny. The swing is higher off the ground than it looks, so he has to hop up backwards into the seat a few times until he makes it. His feet dangle at least half a foot above the ground. Johnny, who is still holding onto the chain, notices this, and starts laughing. “Cute,” he says absentmindedly, still chuckling; then, almost like he didn’t mean to say it out loud, turns bright pink and drops the chain.

“Hey, fuck you,” Ten says reflexively. “We can’t all be ten feet tall.” Johnny, who was still looking a bit embarrassed, stares back at Ten, but he doesn’t seem offended. Instead, he grabs the chain on Ten’s swing again.

“I know,” Johnny says, an easy grin spreading across his face. “It wouldn’t be fun if everyone were as tall as me.” He grips the chain and gives it a sudden push, sending Ten swinging in circles. Ten’s legs are too short to stop himself, so he holds onto his seat for dear life.

“Hey!” he yelps, before he swings back around on his wild trajectory and crashes into Johnny. Johnny, still laughing, reaches out to grab Ten’s arm as he makes contact, pulling him to a swaying stop. Ten is certain his face is red, but he is too startled to pretend to act annoyed. As much as his instinct is to snap out a biting remark at Johnny – and maybe a few choice curses – when he opens his mouth, a kind of wheezing giggle escapes. Johnny grins back at him, and only looks a little remorseful when he says, “sorry, couldn’t help myself.”

Ten, face now definitely red, just huffs. “Yes, I’m sure you couldn’t.” Johnny lets go of him – Ten doesn’t realize until Johnny lets go that Johnny’s hand was still gripping him tightly around his forearm – and Ten catches his breath, pumping his legs to get himself into a regular back-and-forth on the swing. Johnny pulls into a gentle swing next to him.

“You know,” Ten says to Johnny when they swing past each other, “if you go high enough, it feels like you’re flying over the ocean.” He isn’t sure what prompts him to say it, but the words seem to slip out when he and Johnny make eye contact as they pass.

“Oh yeah?” Johnny says. He begins to pump his long legs, and within a few seconds is swinging high, way higher than Ten would ever feel comfortable going himself. His black hair floats off his face when gravity pulls him back, and his smile seems to reflect the sun. Ten feels a sudden lurch in his stomach looking at Johnny – his own fear of heights, probably.

Johnny slows, letting himself fall back into pace with Ten.

“You were right,” he says, a little out of breath. “It really did feel like I was flying over the water.” He laughs. “But I do feel a little dizzy now.”

“Maybe we should get off?” Ten suggests.

“Good idea,” Johnny says in agreement. He drags his feet to stop, then squeezes himself out of the seat. He holds his hand out to Ten.

Ten stares at Johnny’s outstretched hand, then up to his face. “Are you making fun of me again?”

Johnny looks at him innocently. “No? I just wanted to help.”

Ten scowls. “I can get down just fine on my own, thank you,” he says, jumping down from his swing and only stumbling a little. He straightens up and smooths down his shorts. Johnny is still looking at him with an amused expression, so Ten turns and begins to head back to the stairs leading to the beach so Johnny can’t look at his face for too long. When he gets to the top of the stairs, he realizes that Johnny hadn’t follow him. He turns around and sees Johnny over by the schoolhouse, peering into a barred window.

“This is the school, right?” Johnny calls over to him. Ten meanders over to stand next to Johnny, although the window is too high for him to fully see inside. He doesn’t need to, though; he could draw a map of the one-room schoolhouse with his eyes closed. “It’s so small,” Johnny muses.

“Small is definitely one way to describe it,” Ten responds. “Want to see it from the inside?”

Johnny looks down at him in confusion. “Isn’t it locked? It’s summer.”

Instead of answering, Ten raises his eyebrows up at Johnny, then begins to walk around to the back of the small, square building. Johnny follows a few steps behind him, casting a long shadow in Ten’s path.

Ten hasn’t done this in years, but he remembers exactly what to look for – the large air conditioning unit set against the back wall on the ground, just under a wide, rectangular window.

“There,” he says, pointing to the window. Johnny looks skeptical, but he follows Ten anyway. Ten hoists himself up onto the air conditioner, wincing a little as his hands press into the hot metal, then stands all the way up. “This window doesn’t lock,” he says, using his fingers to pull at the window frame. The window doesn’t budge; for a moment, Ten feels like he is about to look like a complete idiot. Finally, though, whatever sand or grit was jamming the window comes loose, and it swings all the way down. Ten gets a face full of stale air and grabs at the wall to keep his balance. “See?” he says, looking down at Johnny.

Johnny looks impressed; Ten is annoyed by how pleased that makes him feel.

“Cool,” Johnny says. “ … Are you sure it’s okay, though? Breaking and entering?”

“Narc,” Ten teases. “It’s fine, really. I promise, no one cares, and there’s technically no ‘breaking’ happening, so …”

This reasoning must be good enough for Johnny, who nods and pulls himself easily onto the unit next to Ten. They are suddenly very close; the air conditioner is big, but not that big, and Ten is nearly making eye contact with Johnny’s left pec. Johnny grins down at him, but Ten refuses to meet his gaze. “Sorry,” Johnny says.

“Hmm,” Ten says, the heat radiating from Johnny’s tanned skin scrambling his brain. _God, why does he smell so good_? _Like coconut sunscreen and seawater._

“Now what?” Johnny says, peering into the window. “Can we fit through there?”

“Obviously not at the same time,” Ten says to Johnny’s nipple. “You go first so you can break my fall.”

Johnny obliges, contorting his body to fit through the narrow space, pulling his legs down last. He hops down into the dark room with a soft thud, then looks up at Ten. “Hurry up, it’s creepy in here,” he calls up.

Not for the first time that day, Ten holds in a smile, then climbs in after Johnny. It isn’t high enough off the ground to be of any real danger, but he still feels better with Johnny already on the ground waiting for him. He slides down through the open window to the dark classroom floor and lands next to Johnny.

Once inside, the room isn’t all that dark; despite the dustiness of the windows, the midday sun manages to trickle its way inside. Dust particles float lazily through the sun beams; the air is still and damp, full of that ancient ocean smell that is so familiar to Ten.

He hasn’t been in the old schoolhouse in years – three years to be exact – but as he looks around the dim room, his memories come flooding back. The wooden desks and most of the chairs are pushed up against the opposite wall, but otherwise the room is exactly as he remembers it: the faded green chalkboard next to the lone teacher’s desk, on which sits a large globe; the door at the far end of the room, opening onto the short hallway leading to the front office and the bathroom – the only other rooms in the building. For a moment he forgets Johnny is there, but the moment is interrupted by Johnny saying loudly, “is this you?”

Ten looks to where Johnny is standing by the bulletin board in the corner of the room. Johnny is using his phone flashlight to illuminate a wall of photos and is peering intently at one in the bottom row. _Oh no._ He knows exactly which picture Johnny is looking at.

Ten walks over to peer around Johnny, and there it is – a row of ten kids of various ages standing in front of the schoolhouse, with a fourteen-year-old Ten posing at the very end, next to a baby-faced Sicheng. In the picture he is wearing a pink flower-printed shirt with a shark-tooth necklace, and, of course, the tidal wave of bright red hair gelled up over his forehead, with just the faintest hint of his natural black poking through underneath.

“Is this you?” Johnny repeats, looking over his shoulder back at Ten. Johnny’s expression isn’t what he was expecting – he wasn’t sure what he was expecting, honestly; incredulity, perhaps, or teasing – but Johnny looks so genuinely interested, without any hint of mocking.

“How did you even recognize me?” Ten mutters, leaning in to get a better look. “My hair looks insane.”

“What? No!” Johnny says. “I always liked the red.”

_Huh?_ Sicheng’s words from a few nights ago suddenly ring in his head. ‘ _We have met him before.’_ Ten raises his eyebrow suspiciously. “You … _always_ … liked the red?”

Johnny looks flustered. “I mean … well …” He scratches his arm. “Uh … because, you know … you know I’ve met you before, right? I mean, maybe not officially, but we hung around in the same group of friends, sometimes …” he trails off, looking a bit like a lost puppy.

Ten, again, shuffles through his rolodex of faces to try to pinpoint Johnny’s, but his mind still draws a blank.

“Well, I think we both looked pretty different back then, so it’s understandable if you don’t remember me,” Johnny continues. “I had braces for a long time, I was a bit shorter, a lot skinnier, kind of goofy-looking. And I told people here to call me John, not Johnny.”

The name ‘John’ does sound familiar, but he must have met a hundred Johns in his life. That memory from earlier – being chased by a tall boy from the mainland around the schoolyard – flits back across his mind, sparking a faint, barely-there feeling of recognition.

Well. Whether or not he remembers meeting Johnny, Johnny certainly seems to remember him.

“So … you liked the red hair?” Ten ventures. By now, Johnny is just as red as the hair in question.

Johnny laughs nervously. “Oh! Yeah, I did. It was cool. I had never met anyone with that color hair before, so it was pretty memorable.”

_I guess that explains it_ , Ten thinks. _He just remembers the hair_.

“Is this your entire school?” Johnny asks, still absorbed by the picture.

“Yep, that’s all of us. The entire kindergarten through high school.”

“Whoa,” Johnny says. “What if you didn’t get along with some of the people? I guess you’d just have to deal with it.”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Ten says. “Good thing I had Sicheng, or else I would have lost my mind.”

Johnny nods thoughtfully. “So, you two are pretty close, then?”

“Well, yeah,” Ten says.

Johnny nods again. “So,” he says, “did you guys ever, you know …”

Ten laughs incredulously; he can’t read the expression on Johnny’s face. “No, absolutely not,” he says, still laughing. “He’s like my brother. If you’re curious about dating, then we pretty much had to wait until the summer for people like you to come around.”

Johnny perks up at this. “People like me, you say? Like, handsome and cool?”

Ten scoffs, but lets a smile slip through. “I meant people from the mainland. Literally just anyone who wasn’t me or Sicheng, or any of the old people who live here.”

“Ah, I see,” Johnny says, matching Ten’s smile. He notices Johnny’s eyes fall to his lips, just for a moment, before Johnny turns away and looks at the rest of the room.

Ten leads Johnny on a tour of the schoolhouse, which takes all of two minutes to walk around the entire thing. The office and bathroom are both locked, so there isn’t much to see outside the main classroom. Ten keeps noticing Johnny looking at him, and it makes him nervous, but not in a bad way.

“Let’s go. It’s too hot in here,” Ten says, after catching Johnny staring again. Johnny agrees, then helps Ten push a desk over to the window so they can climb through.

Once outside, Johnny looks at his phone. “Oh, Mark and Doyoung are leaving. I should probably head back with them, help them carry everything back to the house,” he says, looking apologetically at Ten.

“Okay,” Ten says. “I have to head home and get ready for my shift, anyway.” He feels a twinge of disappointment; Johnny is kind of a dork, but not completely unpleasant to hang out with.

They set off back down the beach in the direction they had come from, the afternoon sun beating down on their faces. The walk back feels quicker than the way there, and Ten is kind of startled when Johnny stops in front of Taeil’s lifeguard chair. Taeil is gone, but Jungwoo sits in his place and waves sweetly when he spots the two of them.

Johnny glances around the beach, and Ten follows his eyes to where his two friends are busy packing up their towels. Johnny looks back down at him. “That was fun. Thanks for letting me join you on your walk,” he says, with his characteristic wide grin.

“Sure,” Ten says. “Let’s break into another building next time.”

Johnny laughs. Ten’s heart beats a little faster.

“Definitely,” Johnny says. “I’ll see you around?” He has that hopeful look on his face again, and Ten can’t help the sass that slips out of his mouth.

“Maybe,” he says with a coy smile, then turns and sashays down the beach. When he is far enough away, he chances a glance backwards, only to see Johnny still smiling at him. Cheeks burning, he turns his head quickly and keeps walking, feeling self-conscious as he jogs up the stairs two at a time and walks in the direction of his house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> awkward flirtation ftw
> 
> also Taeil is a living legend
> 
> ty for reading!! <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit longer than normal, but kind of a lot happens in this one :p enjoy!
> 
> also rating is now M

Johnny doesn’t see Ten for another week.

That’s not for lack of trying, either. He keeps his eyes peeled whenever they head to the beach or walk into town. Johnny can only come up with a few good excuses to go to the general store – which earns him a significant amount of teasing from Mark and Doyoung – but whenever he goes, Ten is nowhere to be found. In Ten’s place at the cash register sits a skinny, big-eyed boy (who introduces himself as Yangyang), who offers to print Johnny a copy of the shift schedule when Johnny asks if he knows when Ten is working. Johnny politely refuses; that might be a little too desperate, if not bordering on creepy. He has the whole summer ahead of him, anyway – he is sure to see Ten at some point, without needing to resort to stalking him at work. 

He doesn’t need to wait the whole summer, however. Later that week, while lounging on the deck that overlooks the ocean, he gets a text from Taeil.

> From: Moon Taeil
> 
> _Eyy Johnny boy – party tonight, my place, 10 pm – you know where it is, right? The big white house on the beach, down the street from the firehouse. c u there!!!_

Johnny turns around in his chair to shout inside the house. “Mark! Doyoung!” A few moments later, Mark shuffles outside, hair sticking up in the back from his afternoon nap.

“What, what is it?” Mark asks, yawning loudly into his hand. Doyoung comes out after him, stepping around Mark to lean against the railing of the deck.

“Taeil’s having another party tonight,” Johnny says, holding out his phone to show them the text. “It’s kind of last minute, but we’re definitely going, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” Mark says with a grin. “I’m sure you’re looking forward to it. Did you ask Taeil if your boyfriend is going?”

Johnny blinks at him, stone-faced, successfully fighting down the blush that creeps up his neck. “So, we’re going?”

Mark huffs. “You people have no sense of humor. Yes, obviously we’re going.”

* * *

Several hours later, they find themselves at the front door of Taeil’s house. His house is easily the biggest on the island, with four stories and modern glass walls set into white concrete that make it stand out from the modest wooden architecture of the rest of the island. People stream in and out, the sound of deep house music swelling whenever the door opens.

Doyoung looks skeptically up at the house, but Mark seems impressed. “What, does his family own the island or something? This place is massive,” he says to Johnny. Johnny has never actually seen Taeil’s parents, so it is completely possible that they do own the island. From what he has gathered, Taeil’s parents own other, larger houses on other islands, leaving Taeil as the primary steward of this house (their “cottage,” as they call it) during the summer. Even when he was a teenager, Taeil pretty much had free reign of the place.

Johnny leads them inside to the minimalist, open-concept interior. It seems to be a similar crowd to the beach party, and immediately upon entering, Johnny’s eyes search through the crowd for the one face he wants to see. The room is too dark, though, lit only by a few lamps and a rainbow strobe light, and the crowd is too dense to pick out exact faces.

They walk over to a counter stacked high with liquor bottles and plastic shot glasses. Doyoung scans the bottles and asks Johnny a question he can’t hear over the music. He just nods, and Doyoung picks up a large bottle and pours three shots of caramel-colored liquid. Johnny doesn’t have much taste for hard liquor, but he clinks the small plastic cup with Mark and Doyoung and downs the shot anyway, face scrunching as it burns his throat. Almost immediately, he feels a comfortable warmth spreading through his body, and he accepts the second shot when Doyoung pushes it into his hand.

The second one goes down smoother. Johnny leans against the counter, lazily watching the dancing crowd. Because of his size, his alcohol tolerance is the highest among his friends, and the two shots make his head feel pleasantly light but not to the point of dizziness. Suddenly, he feels a hand grip his arm, and he looks down in surprise to see Mark staring out into the crowd with wide eyes. 

“Ah fuck, he’s back,” Mark whines, clutching at Johnny. Johnny follows his gaze and sees the floppy-haired boy from the beach party leaning against a wall on the far end of the room, winking at Mark. “Shit, I gotta go,” Mark says, letting go of Johnny’s arm. He walks into the crowd before Johnny and Doyoung can stop laughing, disappearing into the dense pack of dancing bodies.

“Should we be worried?” Doyoung says to Johnny, wiping his eyes and cracking open a bottle of beer.

“Nah, he’s fine. I bet you twenty bucks they’ll be making out by the end of the night,” Johnny says.

“Deal,” Doyoung says, taking a long gulp of his beer. He cracks his neck, stretches his arms, and sets the half-empty bottle on the counter. “I’m gonna go dance, and maybe try to keep an eye on our son while I’m at it. Want to come?”

“No, I’ll join you later, maybe. I’m just going to walk around, see if I can find Taeil,” Johnny says. Doyoung raises his eyebrows knowingly at Johnny but doesn’t press him further. Johnny knows Doyoung can see right through him; they’ve known each other for that long.

“Good luck,” Doyoung says with a wink before walking down the steps into the sunken living room to join the crowd. Johnny stays by the counter for a few minutes, watching Doyoung dance – Doyoung had walked up to a guy and girl dancing together, whispered something in each of their ears, then somehow ended up with both wrapped around him. Watching the spectacle, Johnny lets the music empty the thoughts from his head.

It is not a great spot to stand, though, as people keep jostling him to get to the liquor. Johnny pushes off the counter and starts walking around the main room of the house, making his way through the partygoers to get to the side closer to the beachfront porch. The crowd is less dense here, although he still needs to worm his way past several couples making out to get to the door leading out to the porch. In parties like this, his height and large frame always come as an advantage, as most people instinctively step out of his way; this also lets him see over most of the crowd, eyes roving over each face he passes. _Still no sign of him_.

He sidles through the open glass door onto the balcony, the ocean breeze pleasantly cool after the dense heat of the party. The music is still audible out here, but it doesn’t fully drown out the sound of crashing waves from the dark beach below.

Several other people are out on the porch, standing and chatting in small groups or lounging on the couches arranged by the far end of the balcony. Johnny idly wishes that he had a beer, if only for something to hold in his hand to make him feel less awkward leaning against the railing by himself.

As he looks out over the beach, his eyes slowly adjusting to the moonlight, he hears a familiar sweet voice rising to a giggle. His head snaps to follow the source of the noise over to the cluster of couches in the far corner. He somehow hadn’t noticed them before: Jungwoo – the source of the giggling – leaning his head on Taeil’s shoulder, as Taeil talks animatedly to someone sitting on the couch facing away from Johnny.

Johnny can’t see the man’s face, but his stomach flips when he notices the familiar glint of silver earrings.

At that moment, Jungwoo happens to look up and catch Johnny’s eye. Jungwoo smiles brightly and waves at him, which causes the others on the couch to turn and look at him. And suddenly – there is Ten, looking at Johnny over his shoulder with an unreadable expression. Mouth dry, Johnny raises his hand to Jungwoo and Taeil in greeting, then chances another glance at Ten. Johnny thinks he sees a ghost of a smile on Ten’s lips before he turns to the person sitting next to him – Sicheng, who else – and whispers something, and Johnny loses his nerve and looks quickly back at the ocean, wishing even harder that he had another drink in his hand.

Ten looks good, of course. _Why does he always look so good?_ In the low light, Johnny can see that Ten’s eyes are painted with something dark and smoky like they were that first night, and he wears a loose, dark red shirt that shows off his neck and collarbones. He has never noticed Ten’s side profile before tonight, but he is not sure how. His small, curved lips, his angular nose that slopes slightly up at the tip, silhouetted by the porchlight behind him – it is all Johnny can do not to steal another glance at him. 

Since their day on the beach, Johnny has not been able to get Ten off his mind. Based on Ten’s rather cold manner towards him before that, he was sure that Ten would have gotten sick of him and made some excuse to leave early. But Ten had gone along with Johnny, responded to his awkward attempts at conversation, even brought Johnny into the old school of his own volition. He knows Ten was staring at him, too, although Johnny isn’t exactly a stranger to that kind of attention. He is 83% certain that there is a mutual attraction – if he felt it, standing close in that dark schoolhouse, then surely Ten felt it, too – but he wants to be completely sure before acting on it.

Lost in his own thoughts, he fails to notice the figure that slips in next to him until he feels a brush of fabric on his bare arm. Startled, he looks to his right and, heart beating wildly, makes eye contact with Ten, who is suddenly very close and looking at him with mild amusement. Without saying anything, Ten turns and leans his forearms on the railing, gazing out at the ocean. Johnny looks around to see if he had come over with Taeil and the others, but they are still sitting at their spot on the couches, deep in a lively conversation.

Johnny finds himself suddenly at a completely loss. He was about to come up with an excuse to talk to Ten alone, to somehow get him away from his friends, but Ten had beaten him to the punch. So, mirroring Ten’s posture, he leans back on the railing and stares out at the dark view, hyper aware of Ten’s small yet intimidating presence next to him. Ten doesn’t say anything, or even take another look at Johnny, just leans there silently with the starlight reflecting in his dark eyes. His face isn’t blank, though, and it takes Johnny a few minutes to figure out his expression: expectant, like he is waiting for Johnny to say something, anything. Which is fair; he had been the one to approach Johnny first, so it is only reasonable that he expects Johnny to make the next move.

“Hey,” Johnny says, making his voice as deep and suave as can possibly be achieved with a one-syllable word. Ten flicks his eyes up at Johnny and gives him the barest trace of a smile, before looking away again. _Alright, if that’s how he wants to play it … time to pull out the big guns_. “It’s kind of loud out here. Want to find somewhere a little quieter?” As expected, Ten reacts to this, a playful smile on his lips. He still doesn’t look at Johnny, though. _Hmph._

“You’re really making me work for it, huh?” Johnny mutters, mostly to himself. Ten finally looks at him and laughs out loud, though Johnny can’t tell if the laugh is warm or teasing. Probably both.

“I guess so,” Ten says, eyes glittering wildly. Johnny, is, as usual, completely mystified by whatever comes out of Ten’s mouth, and a bit startled by the suddenly flirtatious direction of this conversation. Ten is still looking at him. Johnny looks back, but unable to hold his gaze for too long, looks down at his nose and notices the flash of a gold nose ring. Goddamn.

“Is that new?” he blurts out, still staring at Ten’s nose.

“It’s fake,” Ten says, reaching up to pull off the small ring and spinning in around in his fingers. He winks at Johnny before slipping it back on. “Like it?”

“Yeah,” Johnny replies, grinning. “You’d look good with a real one.”

“Thanks, I know,” Ten says with a pout. “But I can’t get it done anywhere here, I have to wait until I can go to the mainland. I would just make Sicheng do it, but I only have one nose, so …”

Johnny laughs quietly at this, feeling a bit more comfortable. He’ll have to keep in mind how well Ten responds to flattery.

“Still want to go somewhere quieter?” Ten asks suddenly, voice low. At some point during their short conversation, Ten had moved closer to Johnny. And, almost like a switch had been flipped, Ten is touching him, his hand lightly brushing over Johnny’s arm. Very focused on the touch, blood rushing away from his brain, Johnny nods. Ten is completely unreadable, and so far, completely unpredictable. However, Johnny is pretty sure he can read this situation quite clearly. He honestly hadn’t expected Ten to respond to him in _this_ way, so soon, but he is not about to start questioning it.

He walks with Ten into the house from the porch, not completely able to wrap his mind around the fact that Ten is now fully holding onto his arm, letting Johnny lead him through the crowded party. He is too distracted by the feeling of Ten’s small fingers gripping his forearm to realize that he has no idea where exactly he is leading Ten, so he stops short.

“What’s wrong?” Ten shouts over the music, gazing up at Johnny through dark lashes. Johnny becomes suddenly aware of the crush of people around them, the pounding of the bass from the speakers that rattles his jaw. The room is hot, much hotter than it was outside, and his whole body feels like it is burning from the inside out. He looks around for a quiet pocket, somewhere with fewer people, but every square inch of the massive house seems to be full. He thinks he catches sight of Mark’s bright yellow shirt in the crowd, but when he blinks, it is gone.

“Nothing,” Johnny shouts back. “I thought we could find a room to talk, but I don’t think there’ll be anywhere quiet or empty enough.” Ten looks around, nodding.

“How about the beach?” Ten suggests, standing up on his tiptoes to speak more directly into Johnny’s ear. Johnny suppresses a shudder at the sudden feeling of Ten’s breath on his neck.

“I was thinking the same thing,” he replies, leaning down. Ten nods, then lets Johnny lead him through the crowd to the front door. This is easier said than done, as it seems like every teenager and young adult on the island has suddenly appeared in Taeil’s house in the time since Johnny and his friends arrived at the party. 

Eventually, though, they make it to the door and out into the night. More people mill around out front, and Johnny guides Ten by the arm through a cloud of cigarette smoke to the seashell-lined path leading down to the beach. It isn’t a private section of the beach – not even Taeil’s family has that kind of influence here – but their property is so wide that it might as well be private, with the neighboring houses at least a five minute walk in either direction.

When they get to the sand, Ten lets go of Johnny and bends down to remove his sandals. Johnny leans down to remove his own shoes, which are sneakers and take longer to untie. As he is awkwardly bending over and trying to untie his laces in the dark, Ten hooks his sandals through his fingers and sets off down the beach without him. Johnny wants to call out to him to wait, but decides that that would be supremely uncool, so he tugs off his shoes without fully untying them, balls up his socks and shoves them into the heels of his shoes, then jogs to catch up with Ten. Because of his short legs, Ten hasn’t made it very far, so Johnny makes it to him easily.

Although the sky had been bright and clear earlier in the day, a layer of midnight grey clouds now blots out the moon, leaving the beach in close to total darkness. The only light comes from the large glass windows of Taeil’s house, illuminating part of the beach in an artificial yellow glow.

Johnny follows Ten, who seems to have a destination in mind. They walk for a minute or so until Ten stops just outside the wide rectangle of light cast by the house. He looks around, tilting his head back and forth and squinting as though looking for something.

“Hm. There should be lounge chairs set up here, but I don’t see them,” Ten says. Johnny looks around too, though the beach seems to be empty except for them. “Whatever,” he says, then settles down into the sand, looking up at Johnny expectantly. Johnny folds down to join him, setting his sneakers on the sand next to him.

Ten does that thing he does – that ‘looking out over the ocean without looking at Johnny or acknowledging his presence’ thing – which Johnny would probably mind more if not for the fact that it gives him the opportunity to admire Ten’s side profile again. A patch of cloud drifts away, letting some blue moonlight slip through. It is enough to let him see the broad outlines of Ten’s face a bit more clearly, but Ten’s eyes are still cast in shadow. 

Ten turns his head like an owl, catching Johnny staring. Johnny would normally be reduced to a nervous mess holding eye contact with Ten for this long, but something about the darkness gives him more confidence to hold his gaze and not turn away.

A warm sea breeze ruffles Ten’s hair, causing a tuft falls over his eyes. Almost without thinking, Johnny lifts his hand to brush it off Ten’s face and tuck it behind his ear. Ten’s eyes widen slightly, searching Johnny’s face. When Johnny moves to lift his hand away, Ten reaches up and presses Johnny’s hand back onto his face.

Johnny is sure Ten must be able to feel his heartbeat through his palm. Ten’s face is soft and warm, and his grip on Johnny’s hand is surprisingly gentle, compared with the strength of his grip from earlier. As if in a trance, Johnny moves his hand up, running his fingers through the buzzed section of hair behind Ten’s ears, then down, lightly tracing his fingertips over Ten’s neck. Ten shudders into the touch, his own hand still resting on Johnny’s.

When Ten agreed to follow him, Johnny was still not entirely sure what Ten really wanted to happen, or what he expected from Johnny. Sure, Johnny was by then almost 94% sure of the mutual attraction, but there was still that nagging voice in the back of his mind telling him that Ten was just messing with him, that he would laugh in Johnny’s face and go back to Sicheng, Taeil and the others to tell them about what had happened. Not that Ten seems cruel in that way – okay, he is a _little_ intimidating, but not mean – but Johnny still couldn’t shake the feeling. Or maybe Ten really did just want to talk, like Johnny had suggested (albeit suggestively) when he offered to move somewhere quieter.

Yet now, with Ten’s small body so close to his, and Ten’s eyes carefully following the movement of his tongue over his dry lips, the anxious, ruminating thoughts fade away, replaced instead by the tentative pull of attraction building in his gut. Ten had all the opportunities in the world to leave, to turn his head away, but he remains fixated on Johnny, his rise and fall of his chest quickening. 

Johnny doesn’t expect Ten to speak, but he does – and what comes out of his mouth makes Johnny’s breath catch in his throat and a deep flush spread throughout his already heated body. “Are you going to kiss me, or are you making _me_ work for it now?”

Johnny has no answer to this. Ten’s mouth pulls into a coy smile, teeth sharp and bright in the moonlight, before murmuring with a voice so low and husky Johnny almost thinks he imagines it, “alright, then, I’ll work for it.”

Ten tightens his grip on Johnny’s wrist and pulls Johnny’s hand behind his head. Johnny instinctively grabs the back of Ten’s hair as Ten leans in, closing the gap between them. Johnny can barely process what is happening before Ten is halfway in his lap, kissing from his jaw down his neck. Johnny lets out a deep, throaty sigh at the feeling; the skin on his neck has always been sensitive, but the fact that it is _Ten_ kissing him between hot breaths, the Ten that he had spent so many summers pining after, who barely even seemed to give him the time of day, makes him that much more sensitive to the touch.

The attention is purely physical, though (probably). Johnny still has no actual idea how Ten feels about him, if Ten had thought about Johnny during the past week as much as Johnny had thought about him. Yet when Ten latches onto the front of his shirt, teeth slowly scraping down the skin of Johnny’s neck, these thoughts scatter like sand, replaced only by the sudden, inescapable pull of desire.

Johnny rests his free hand on Ten’s shoulder and guides him down into the sand, pressing their hips firmly together. Ten is breathing heavily and he stares up at Johnny through his dark lashes. His eyes look wild and sparkling, and when he lets his mouth fall slightly open, Johnny’s breath catches in his throat. In the dark of the night, Ten almost seems like a second shadow under him. Ten wraps his leg around Johnny’s hip and pulls him closer. Johnny lets out a noise, deep in his throat, and he reaches out a hand to grab Ten’s thigh, fingers digging into his muscle. Ten breathes out in response, eyelids fluttering, his breath hot on Johnny’s face. Johnny’s heart is pounding a mile a minute. Ten parts his lips a little more, and he just gazes up at Johnny with the same intense yet teasing expression in his eyes that drives Johnny crazy.

Johnny can’t take it anymore; he tilts his head down, opening his own mouth to meet Ten’s. As soon as their lips touch, Ten melts into him, kissing Johnny back with a feverish need. When he pushes his tongue into Ten’s mouth, Ten lets out a quiet moan and reaches his other hand up under Johnny’s shirt, dragging his nails along his back, pressing into the muscles with surprising strength. Johnny shifts so one elbow rests above Ten’s head, caging him under his body; his other hand grips Ten’s side, and he can feel the rapid rise and fall of Ten’s chest through the silky fabric of his shirt.

Ten is a vicious kisser; he bites at Johnny’s lips, pulling them between his teeth then sucking on his tongue, leaning back so Johnny has to chase his mouth. He lifts his other leg around Johnny, one foot running up and down Johnny’s calf while his other heel digs into the small of Johnny’s back, pulling them even closer. He slips his hand in between them, dragging his palm along Johnny’s chest, then lower to his stomach, then just below the waistband of his shorts. Johnny’s breath hitches and he pulls back from the kiss, abs tensing from the sudden touch. Ten searches his face.

“Can I?” He whispers. Johnny swallows roughly and nods, not trusting himself to speak coherently.

When Ten slips his hand lower, Johnny drops his forehead onto Ten’s, breathing out a low moan when Ten grips him tightly. Ten’s hand is so hot, almost feverish, as he gazes up at Johnny through heavy-lidded eyes.

The pounding in Johnny’s ears and the raspiness of his breathing drown out the sound of crashing ocean waves and the rumble of music from the party. Ten is also making noises under him, wiggling and still sliding his small foot up and down Johnny’s leg.

As a shudder of pleasure racks through him, he leans down to meet Ten’s mouth again, panting between kisses. With Ten partially distracted, the kisses are somewhat gentler and softer, although Ten catches Johnny’s lower lip between his teeth almost like a reflex when Johnny presses their bodies even closer. Johnny doesn’t mind the sudden pain; instead, mixed the intense feeling pooling in his lower abdomen, it makes it that much sweeter. As the first wave crashes over him, Ten whimpers into his mouth, grip unwavering. Johnny had involuntarily groaned and shut his eyelids, but he wrenches them open, their faces pressed so close together that Ten’s features seem out of focus.

He pants into Ten’s open mouth, catching his breath as his heartbeat starts to return to normal. Giving him almost no time to cool down, Ten grabs Johnny’s hand and presses it in between his own legs. With his own body still shaking slightly from the recent release of tension, Johnny pushes into Ten; it isn’t long before Ten is trembling, whimpering high and needy into Johnny’s ear, head thrown back into the sand.

* * *

Afterwards, Johnny lays beside him, his head light and buzzing. He runs his fingers through Ten’s hair, trying to clean the sand from between the strands. Ten’s eyes are closed, and he breathes slow and calm. When his eyelids flutter open momentarily, Johnny catches his gaze and gives him a goofy grin. Ten returns it with a ghost of a smile and a quiet sigh. He sits up, adjusting his clothes and wiping sand from the back of his legs.

“We should probably head back,” he says, strapping himself back into his sandals.

“If you say so,” Johnny says, petting lightly over Ten’s thigh. Ten doesn’t seem to respond to the touch, though Johnny doesn’t read too much into it. Some people like to touch afterwards; some don’t. Ten must be the latter, which is not too surprising given his personality.

They walk quietly down the beach back towards the house. Johnny absently checks his phone and is surprised to see two missed calls and text from Doyoung.

> From: Doyoung
> 
> _Where are you?_
> 
> _I owe you twenty bucks, you were right about Mark – I walked in on him kissing that guy (Donghyuck? Do you know him? Kind of a little shithead but he seems like a good kid)_
> 
> _Mark went home with him so now I’m just here by myself_
> 
> _I know you’re probably busy right now getting some but I don’t want to walk home by myself :x_

Johnny knows Doyoung must be pretty drunk to be asking Johnny’s help with navigation (though, as always, he is never too drunk to have impeccable spelling and grammar in all his messages). Johnny messages back.

> _Lol I told you_
> 
> _Coming back now. Meet me by the front door_

They must not have actually gone too far from the house, because they are up the path to the front door quicker than Johnny expects. He sees Doyoung leaning on a concrete column, looking with glazed eyes at the people standing near him. When Doyoung notices them approach, he makes a series of absurd facial expressions before settling on a lopsided, knowing smile.

Ten seems wary to approach Doyoung; Johnny wouldn’t blame him, what with the weird looks he keeps gives them. Yep, Doyoung is definitely drunk.

“Who’s your friend?” Doyoung slurs when they get close.

A little embarrassed, Johnny introduces them. “This is Ten,” he says, kind of awkwardly resting his hand on Ten’s shoulder. “Ten, this is my friend, Doyoung.”

Ten gives Doyoung a closed-mouth smile before turning his head to look up at Johnny. “That was … fun,” he says, facial expression betraying nothing beyond the simple words.

“Yeah, it was,” Johnny says, grinning down at him, ignoring Doyoung’s snickering. “Can I get your number? So I can see you again.”

Ten pauses, and Johnny is suddenly worried he is about to reject him before he says, “sure.” He reaches out for Johnny’s phone, and Johnny unlocks it for him, pulling up an empty contact for him to fill in. When Ten finishes typing in his number, he hands the phone back to Johnny and lightly clears his throat.

“Alright, have a good night,” he says, and slips inside before Johnny can give him a goodbye kiss, or even a hug.

“What’s his deal?” Doyoung grumbles, frowning at the front door.

“What’s _your_ deal?” Johnny responds, dodging Doyoung’s completely valid question. “How much did you drink after I left? You know you have the tolerance of a twelve-year-old.”

“Rude.”

Johnny slings his arm around Doyoung’s wide shoulders, supporting him as they make their way down the quiet roads back to their house. They turn down the wrong street twice before finding the right one.

* * *

After he supplies Doyoung with a glass of water and gets him into bed, propping him up on his side with pillows, Johnny sits in the dark kitchen. The glare of his phone hurts his tired eyes, but he can’t stop looking at the new contact in his phone: _Ten._ Nothing fancy, no emojis or cute nickname, but it is enough that it is really there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)))
> 
> if you couldn't already tell, there's some light angst incoming


	7. Chapter 7

“You’re going to break that poor boy’s heart.”

It is thirty minutes past closing time at the general store. Ten and Sicheng sit on their usual stools at the counter, enjoying a late dinner. Sicheng had to stay overtime at the restaurant to do payroll management, so he had come later than normal to bring Ten a meal from the kitchen – tonight, it was Sicheng’s personal specialty, a spicy seafood stew that makes both of them sweat in their seats.

Sicheng drops this unwarranted comment in between spoonfuls of stew, looking up at Ten. Ten pauses with a piece of squid halfway to his mouth, blinks pointedly at Sicheng, then continues chewing.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, mouth full of food.

Sicheng sucks his teeth disapprovingly. “Yes, you do.” Ten keeps eating, careful to avoid Sicheng’s eyes as he leans over their shared bowl to dig around for a piece of shrimp.

Sicheng sighs. “God, you’re so clueless sometimes, it hurts.” This makes Ten look up, although he keeps eating. “What are your plans with Johnny?”

“My _plans_ with him? Is he your son? And what do you mean, clueless?” Ten says, raising an eyebrow.

“Like, do you just want to hook up again? Or are you interested in him, like in a dating kind of way?” Sicheng asks.

“What’s the difference?” Ten grumbles. He reaches under the counter and pulls out a wad of tissues, which he uses to wipe the sweat off his forehead. “He’s just going to leave in a few months, like they all do. Why do I need to make any kind of decision like that? Whatever happens, happens, and then it’ll stop happening when he goes back home.”

The cynicism of the words hurts coming out, although the truth of them hurts even more. This was why he was hesitant to respond to Johnny’s attempts at conversation, to reciprocate his flirtations. If Ten was a stronger man, he would have been able to use the pragmatic side of his brain to push Johnny away, but he ultimately found himself powerless to resist the undeniable charm of Johnny’s easy smile, or the overwhelming attraction that had caused him to kiss Johnny – and do more – that night at the party.

Sicheng nods slowly. This is not the first time he has heard Ten make this point. Ten knows the only reason Sicheng doesn’t chide him for his cynicism is that Sicheng is faced with the same dilemma. Ten has comforted Sicheng through the end of many an ill-fated, inevitably short-lived summer fling, so Sicheng is uniquely equipped to understand Ten’s perspective.

“What do you mean, clueless?” Ten repeats again. Sicheng is now starting to look a little shifty, not meeting Ten’s eyes for longer than a second. “Spit it out.”

Sicheng sighs again, louder and more drawn out than before, and Ten wrinkles his nose as he gets a face full of hot seafood breath.

“Remember when I told you that we had met Johnny before?” he says. Ten nods, although he is surprised that Sicheng himself remember the conversation, as he had been halfway asleep when he said it.

“Oh yeah, he said he remembers my red hair,” Ten says. “And that was, what, seven, eight years ago?”

Sicheng continues. “Yeah, that doesn’t surprise me. He started hanging out with that crew of kids around that time. He was also a little awkward around the big group of all of us, so he was always kind of hanging around at the edge in a smaller group of friends or leaving early to be with his family.”

Ten makes a skeptical face. “Okay, so if he was so quiet, then why do _you_ remember him?”

“Well,” Sicheng says, “while you were off being a chaotic mess –” Ten scoffs at this but doesn’t deny it – “ _I_ was actually getting to know people. And even though I never got to know Johnny personally, I got to know his reputation pretty well.”

“His … reputation? That makes him sound like a drug dealer or something,” Ten interrupts.

Sicheng continues, ignoring the comment. “Ten, he was pretty much infamous for having the world’s biggest crush on you. He never actually told anyone, but it was obvious to anyone with eyes – well, anyone except for you.”

Ten feels like the air has been sucked out of the room. His thoughts scramble to keep up with this bombshell, trying to piece bits of memories together. “Wh …” he sputters. “You – you knew, and didn’t tell me? What the hell, Winwin?”

Sicheng’s maintains his placid expression, although his eyes fill with something like pity. Ten feels a surging mix of confusing feelings in his gut; the first feeling he can identify is shock, with a hint of anger and betrayal seeping through like bile.

“Ten, I _tried_ to tell you at the time, but you weren’t interested, or were just way too oblivious, or both.” Ten drops his spoon, letting it fall with a clatter as it drips hot red broth on the counter. “One time, he went around asking everyone what your favorite flavor of ice cream was just so he could buy it for you. I watched the whole thing – he walked up to you with it in his hand, and you ran off to go play frisbee with some other kids without so much as thanking him. I asked you about it afterwards – like, ‘don’t you think it’s _really nice_ that that cute boy is bringing you, and no one else, ice cream?’ and you were like, ‘no, it’s too hot for ice cream, it’ll just drip all over my hand and I also didn’t ask for it,’ so I dropped it.”

The memory – albeit faded, blurry, and incomplete – comes back to him now. He remembers now exactly which summer that was – how could he have not made the connection before? – and it is one he would rather forget.

“Sicheng,” he says in a low, hoarse voice, suddenly too tired to be angry at his best friend. “Why do you think I might not remember that one moment? Or why I wouldn’t have noticed something like that? Just think – what happened that year? Don’t you remember why I dyed my hair?”

Sicheng’s face falls, realization suddenly hitting him. “Oh,” he whispers. “Right, of course.”

Ten has long since gotten over his parents’ divorce. Even as a kid, he could see it coming, and was surprised it took as long as it did, although that didn’t make it any less painful at the time. The island is small, but for two people who can’t stand each other, it can be unbearably miniscule. At the end of that spring, his dad had left for good, leaving Ten, his mom, and his sister on the island to live off his mom’s modest painter’s income. According to the letters his dad had sent him and his sister, he had gone up north to join an arctic fishing crew. Ten doesn’t remember much from that summer. He does remember sleeping at Sicheng’s house almost every night because he couldn’t stand to be in his own home; this was the origin of his and Sicheng’s weekly movie nights. During one particularly angsty night when Sicheng’s parents had been busy at the restaurant, he had convinced Sicheng to bleach and dye his hair that shade of firetruck red. The color hadn’t fully washed out until December of that year.

That summer had been a bit wild, on top of the red dye job, as he tried to fill his time with as much chaos as possible to drown out the heartbreak of his dad leaving. Of course, he wouldn’t have remembered Johnny’s veiled attempts to talk to him, or to confess, or whatever the boy had been trying to do. However, that doesn’t change the fact that Sicheng knew, and remembered Johnny’s crush, and had still tried to act like some sadistic cupid for the two of them.

He voices this aloud. “Winwin, you knew he had feelings for me, and you still let me hook up with him? Obviously, I wouldn’t have done that if I thought he might be interested in me like _that_!”

Sicheng meets his gaze, the pity in his eyes now replaced with the typical tender-yet-weary look he reserves for Ten. “Okay, first of all, I didn’t ‘let’ you do anything, you’re a grown man capable of making your own decisions. Second, this was years ago, I don’t know if he still feels that way.”

Ten thinks about all the time he has spent with Johnny: Johnny’s tenderness towards him, his earnest attempts at conversation, the number of times he has randomly stopped into the store to purchase just one item (lip balm, a single orange, a pen) and chat with Ten since the night of the party. Viewed from this new perspective, the signals seem pretty obvious in hindsight.

“Ugh,” he says, dropping his head into his palm. 

“Third,” Sicheng says, continuing his train of thought. “Let’s say he does still have feelings for you. If you want my two cents, I think it’s worth giving him a shot. You two are really cute together.”

“You want me to try dating him? Sicheng, I just told you why I can’t do that,” Ten says, exasperated.

“Look, Ten,” Sicheng begins, his uncomfortable look from earlier making a reappearance. “I’ve been thinking about this kind of thing recently. Just – we’re, like, two of the only young people still living here full time. Have you given any thought to the future? I mean, let’s say in a few years you want to start a career, maybe go back to college, have a real, long-term partner? Realistically, you have to know we can’t really do that here.” Ten glares into the stew, which has long since cooled off. Sicheng continues, using his managerial voice. “According to my dad, we’re probably the last generation who will be able to live out here full time. With all the fish migrating farther and farther north because of the oceans getting warmer, the fishing crews have barely been scraping by each season. Their revenue shrinks every year.”

Ten huffs, interrupting him. “If you’re trying to make me depressed, it’s working.”

“You know that’s not what I’m doing, but I’m just being realistic,” Sicheng says. “This shouldn’t be news to you. Even my dad is looking at property on the mainland. So, my point is, it might be a good idea just to consider the possibility of getting into a more serious relationship, whatever that means for the future. Do you want to just be sleeping with randoms for the rest of your life? Until you’re forty, fifty?”

“Well, what about you?” Ten retorts. “You’re in the same boat as me.”

“True,” Sicheng says, “but I don’t think I’m actually interested in dating, so it doesn’t bother me that much. I mean, yes, I had fun with my flings while they lasted, but those always ended up feeling more like friendships than anything else. In all honesty, I prefer being on my own. I like my independence.” At an affronted look from Ten, Sicheng smiles. “Stop, you know what I mean. You’re basically like a part of me, so being around you just feels like being by myself.” Ten can’t help the smile that sneaks onto his own face.

“I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not,” he says.

“It is,” Sicheng assures him. “But seriously, would you please consider getting to know Johnny a little better? If anything, just do it as a favor to me. If you really don’t like him, then I’ll drop it and let you keep using him for his body.” Ten sticks out his tongue; Sicheng truly knows him too well, and he can never stay mad at him for longer than a few minutes. Especially since Sicheng always seems to be right, no matter the topic. It would be annoying if it weren’t so endearing.

“So that’s a yes?” Sicheng says hopefully. “Next time he hits you up, just try to be friendly, and try to hold yourself back from jumping his bones so you can get to know him.”

“I’ll consider it,” he says, wiping off his spoon on a tissue and going back in for another mouthful of cold, still very spicy, stew. Sicheng smiles, then goes on to tell Ten about that day’s dinner antics (tonight had been two toddlers getting into a fight over a chicken nugget).

Like he always does, he helps Sicheng clean off the dishes, then locks up for the night and returns to his home. As he lays in his bed, the emptiness of his house suddenly feels crushing. He rolls over, hugging a pillow between his legs and reaching for his phone to put on music to fill some of the silence. When he picks up his phone, he sees a new, unread message from Johnny.

> _Hi! This is super random, but are you a morning person?_

Ten’s instinct is to ignore the text, not wanting to engage in this kind of silly icebreaker conversation with Johnny at 11:30 at night (even though his heart beats a tiny bit faster from seeing Johnny’s name unexpectedly pop up on his screen). However, Sicheng’s words still linger in his head, so he sighs and begins typing back.

> _Kind of lol … I usually wake up pretty early for work, so I got into a habit_

Johnny messages back almost immediately.

> _Cool same!_

The typing bubble appears and disappears a few times before he sends his next message.

> _How early do you think you could wake up?_
> 
> _Again, this is very very random LOL, and feel free to say no, but would you want to go running with me tomorrow morning? Like around 5:30?_

Well. This was certainly not what Ten was expecting him to ask. The next day happens to be one of his few days off, and he was planning to sleep late and veg out around the house all day. He gets a brief flash of an image in his mind – Johnny running shirtless down the beach in slow motion, morning sun reflecting off his washboard abs – and decides that, sure, 5:30 a.m. is a perfectly reasonable time for a human being to wake up to exercise. Not crazy at all.

> _Okay that’s fine_
> 
> _Make it 5:45 and we’re good_

Johnny responds.

> _Awesome! Just text me your address and I’ll come pick you up :)_

Ten sends Johnny the directions to his house, as the address alone is not usually enough to find his secluded street, regretting all his life decisions.

Yet when he rolls over and shuts his eyes to sleep, he can feel himself smiling into the soft fabric of his pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> didn't i say there would be *light* angst? (with a touch of fluff at the end, of course, bc i'm a softie)


	8. Chapter 8

“Shit!” Johnny curses under his breath, wincing and grabbing the tender spot on his knee where he had just banged it on the dresser. He hears Doyoung rustling around in the bed behind him, making sleepy, confused noises. In the dim light coming from under the door, he can see his friend sit up and blink sleepily at him.

“Huh?” Doyoung mumbles thickly, before flopping back down on the bed and burrowing under the blanket, pulling the rest of the sheets from Johnny’s side of the bed onto himself.

Johnny finishes getting dressed and closes the bedroom door quietly behind him on the way out. He had debated with himself for a good five minutes about whether he should wear a shirt or not, since Ten seemed to like him with his shirt off, but decided that it would be too cold to go half-naked this early in the morning. Besides, he could always take it off later if the need arose.

In the few weeks since they arrived at the island, he had gotten pretty good at navigating around the house in the dark when he left for his morning runs. One of his favorite parts of the day – other than running into Ten, of course – was this time, when the house was quiet, dark, holding its breath for the day. As much as he loved spending time with Doyoung and Mark, it was always nice to have this time to himself.

Which is why he is so surprised to see a light on at the end of the downstairs hallway and to hear someone moving around in the kitchen. By process of elimination, it must be Mark, even though Mark is a heavy sleeper and normally doesn’t wake up until almost lunchtime. But when he walks into the kitchen, fully prepared to see Mark and ask him what he’s doing up so early, he has to stop himself from shouting in surprise. Sitting on the counter in only a pair of skimpy boxers, with a spoonful of peanut butter jammed in his mouth, is Donghyuck.

Johnny just stares at him; it is too early in the morning for his brain to process the sight in front of him. He has still not yet been officially introduced to Donghyuck, but he recognizes him – the shaggy, light brown hair, the mischievous expression permanently fixed to his round face – from the party. As Johnny struggles to close his mouth, Donghyuck grins, hopping down from the counter and holding out the jar of peanut butter to Johnny.

“Want some?” he says, licking his spoon.

All Johnny can say is, “uhhh.”

“No?” Donghyuck says, seeming disappointed. “Ah well, more for me. I’m Donghyuck, by the way. You must be Johnny. Good to meet you, man! Nice place you got here.”

“Uh,” Johnny says again.

“I hope you don’t mind that I’m here, but when Mark called me at 1 a.m. to come over, I just couldn’t say no,” Donghyuck says with a devilish grin. “He said you guys would be cool with me staying over afterwards.”

Johnny finally finds his voice. “Uh, yeah, it’s cool,” he says. Brain still too frazzled to ask any follow up questions, he walks past Donghyuck to the cabinet and pulls out a glass, running it under the sink faucet and taking a long drink. In his peripheral, he sees Donghyuck watching him with interest as he digs around absently for more peanut butter. Donghyuck joins him by the sink, half-heartedly rinses off his spoon, and claps Johnny on the back.

“Alright, I’m going back to bed. Have a good one!” he says brightly, before leaving the jar on the counter and walking off down the hall the Mark’s room, humming under his breath. Johnny blinks after him, thoroughly confused. He shakes his head as though clearing dust from his ears, then turns off the kitchen light and leaves the house.

Johnny is grateful for the directions that Ten had given him, as trying to find his street in the dark is harder than he was expecting. He walks in the direction of the bay first, using the restaurant and general store as a landmark. The main street of the town is eerie at this early in the morning, quiet except for the wind rustling in the dark trees and the sound of waves lapping against the pier. From this side of the island, Johnny can see the lights of the mainland twinkling on the distant shore.

Just as he starts thinking that he might have been better off just meeting Ten at the beach, he sees the telltale thicket of bamboo, illuminated by two tall lanterns, that Ten had told him to look out for. He walks up the slatted wood walkway, feeling only a little creeped out by the dark wall of bamboo on either side of the path.

Other than the light coming from the lanterns, Ten’s house is completely dark. Johnny peers into the windows for some sign of movement, but he sees nothing in the black interior. He glances at his phone to make sure that he didn’t have the wrong time – 5:47, only two minutes later than Ten had agreed to meet him. _Did he forget?_ Johnny raises his hand hesitantly, then raps his knuckles on the door. After a minute of uneventful silence, he knocks again, louder this time. Still nothing.

Just as he is about to try calling Ten, a light inside flicks on and the door swings open, revealing a messy-haired Ten pulling on a shirt and looking a little out of it.

“Hi, sorry,” he says with a yawn, blinking out at the dark morning. Johnny tries not to stare at the hint of stomach he sees before it gets covered by the rest of Ten’s shirt. “I forgot to set my alarm, so I just woke up.” He yawns again. “Give me a minute, I just have to find my sneakers.” Ten looks so cute, Johnny thinks, with his hair sticking up and his face puffy from sleep as he digs around the closet in the hallway by the door.

Still standing in the doorway, watching Ten stifle yet another yawn, Johnny asks, “it’s not too early, right? I can come back later if you want – it’s not a problem.” Ten finally finds his shoes, then sits down on the floor and starts tugging them on. He looks up at Johnny as he ties his laces.

“Really, I’m okay. Believe me, if I didn’t want to go, I wouldn’t be awake right now,” he says, then stands up and combs his fingers through his unruly hair.

“Oh,” Johnny says, pleased. Ten stands there, looking up at him expectantly, and it takes Johnny a moment to realize that he is still blocking the door. Johnny steps back hurriedly, letting Ten shut the door and walk out after him. Ten looks up at Johnny. “Where are we going? The beach?”

“Yeah, if that’s alright. It can be kind of hard to run on sand if you’re not used to it, though,” Johnny says, the thought occurring to him for the first time since the idea of the morning run had popped into his head the previous night.

“I’ll be fine,” Ten says. “I have calves of steel.” Johnny isn’t sure whether to laugh, as Ten says this with a serious expression. He sneaks a look down at Ten’s legs; they do look surprisingly muscular. Then he remembers the feeling of Ten’s thighs pressed against him, all strong and flushed, and has to look away before he starts getting any dangerous thoughts. Still stone-faced, Ten meets his gaze with raised brows, and Johnny reddens slightly, grateful for the darkness of the morning. 

He and Ten set off the direction of the beach, walking down side streets and paths through the trees that Johnny would never have seen himself, even if it had been full daylight. The barest hint of light is visible over the eastern sky as they get closer to the beach, although the sky is mostly overcast, so they make their way in near-total darkness, guided only by the few streetlights that flick on when they pass.

As Ten walks quietly beside him, Johnny says the first thing that pops into his head. “This is definitely the earliest I’ve ever been on a date.”

Ten looks up at him, a teasing smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Is that what this is?”

“Isn’t it?” Johnny responds, feeling unusually bold. Ten doesn’t respond, but the slight smile doesn’t leave his face. Johnny chuckles to himself.

They crest the hill that leads down to the beach, Johnny taking the wooden steps two at a time as Ten follows behind him. When they get down to the sand, Johnny expects Ten to take off by himself, like he had that night at the party, but Ten stops and starts stretching instead. Johnny joins him, watching out of the corner of his eye as Ten folds himself almost completely in half, grabbing the back of his ankles to stretch out his back. Ten pulls himself back up to standing and catches Johnny staring. He holds the eye contact for a few long seconds before he starts stretching his arms above his head and twisting his waist like nothing happened. For a moment, Johnny forgets how to breathe.

Grateful for the darkness the second time that morning, Johnny lightly clears his throat and starts talking to fill the silence. “Are you almost ready? I should warn you, I’m pretty fast.”

“Oh, really?” Ten says. “I think you’re full of shit.” And with that, before Johnny has time to give a retort, Ten turns and sprints down the beach at full speed, sending up a cloud of sand in his wake.

“Wh - ” Johnny sputters, before a huge grin spreads across his face and he takes off after Ten, relishing the burning feeling in his muscles as he pumps his legs, flexing the soles of his feet for purchase in the soft, shifting sand. The grin fades when his competitive spirit takes over; Ten may be short, but he is as fast and agile as a dragonfly. It takes all of Johnny’s effort to catch up to him, and even then, his lungs are already burning and sweat is running down his back, even in the chilled morning air. Turning and seeing Johnny start to gain on him, Ten yelps and runs towards the ocean, to the packed wet sand closer to the waves. This gives him an advantage, and Johnny still follows behind him, nearly within arm’s reach.

However, Johnny’s many weeks of practicing on the sand have given him the benefit of endurance. He maintains his pace behind Ten, carefully regulating his breathing in time with the beat of his feet hitting the ground. He can see Ten’s movements start to drag, can hear his heavy breathing and the groans of exertion. Johnny shifts to the left and falls into line with Ten without needing to quicken his own pace. He turns his head, and in the slowly growing morning light, sees how red Ten’s face is, decorated with beads of sweat that pool at his temples. Despite his obvious exhaustion, Ten is smiling, mouth wide open from his heavy panting; he is smiling broader than Johnny has ever seen him smile, and it lights up his entire face. Johnny’s stomach flips over. 

When Ten sees Johnny beside him, his face scrunches up in determination as he makes one final attempt to pull ahead. But Johnny is faster this time. He easily sprints ahead of Ten, looking back with a laugh. He hears Ten make a kind of strangled groan as he slows to a jog behind him. Johnny keeps running, heart pounding from the adrenaline. After about twenty seconds of running by himself, Johnny slows and looks behind him. In the layer of fog that had begun to settle over the beach, Ten is no more than a grey smudge in the distance.

Johnny comes to a full stop, alternately panting and laughing as the adrenaline starts to fade and his heartbeat returns to normal. He places his hands on his hips and stretches backwards, breathing deep to fill his lungs with cool, damp air. The silhouette of Ten’s figure grows slowly as he gets closer, and he eventually catches up to Johnny, dragging his feet in the sand in a slow, wobbling pace.

Johnny is still laughing by the time Ten catches up. “Who’s full of shit now?” Johnny says, gloating over his victory. Ten grimaces and lets out another exhausted moan. He puts his hands on his knees to catch his breath; then, evidently deciding that standing is too much for him, lets himself flop over into the sand. Johnny keeps laughing, and even though Ten scowls up at him, face dripping in sweat, he lets out a giggle of his own. Pretty soon they are both cracking up, Ten’s laugh high and breathy.

When he regains the ability to speak without bursting out laughing, Johnny peers down at Ten’s form, now curled up in the sand as he clutches his stomach. “Can you stand?” he asks, now getting slightly worried that Ten had actually injured himself; with the amount of speed he picked up so quickly, he might have pulled a muscle or something. Ten shakes his head, falling into another fit of giggles as the movement shakes a cascade of sand into his face. Johnny is slightly amazed at the sight; Ten, who is normally so cool and composed around him, even a bit aloof, is an utter and complete mess. The only other time Johnny remembers seeing anything like this is when he had first seen Ten dancing at the bonfire; then, like now, Ten had seemed completely in his own world, fully free and unselfconscious.

“Ten,” Johnny implores, reaching out his hand to pull Ten up. “C’mon, get up.” Ten reaches out a hand to grab weakly for Johnny’s. But both of their palms are sweaty, and when Johnny tries to pull him up, Ten’s hand slips out and he falls back on the sand.

“Sorry,” Ten says, not looking even a little sorry.

“Can’t you try to get up on your own? Or at least put a little effort in when I help you?” Johnny scolds teasingly.

“No,” Ten says, holding up his arm again with a playful smirk. “What about you? What’s the point of having all those big muscles if you don’t even use them?”

“Oh, you mean these?” Johnny says, flexing his biceps (to an exaggerated eye roll from Ten, even though he was the one asking for it). He grabs Ten’s forearms with both hands, gripping tightly, and gives one strong yank. Ten stumbles upward, falling clumsily against Johnny’s chest. He lets himself rest there for an extended moment, his heavy breathing dampening the part of the shirt above Johnny’s left pec. Just as Johnny starts thinking about how nicely Ten fits against him, Ten pushes himself away and groans.

“That is the _last_ time I let anyone talk me into exercising,” he says, pulling up the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face. 

“Do you not run at all?” Johnny says, his worry returning. “You should have told me! You could have really hurt yourself.”

Ten lets his shirt, now crumpled and damp, fall back down. “I used to,” he says in between breaths. “Back in middle school. Now I mostly just do yoga, which isn’t really exercise.”

“Oh,” Johnny says thoughtfully. “That must be why you’re so stretchy.”

“ _Stretchy_?” Ten repeats, a weird look growing on his face.

“Stretchy – like, flexible,” Johnny clarifies, his face burning. “I just mean … you know, when we were stretching earlier, you were really … stretchy,” he finishes lamely.

“You’re so weird,” Ten says. “Let’s just keep walking so I can cool down.” Johnny agrees, and they continue down the beach at a more leisurely pace. As they walk side-by-side, the sun finally peeks its way over the horizon. With its arrival, the fog starts to dissipate, and morning rays reflect brightly off the ocean and warm their faces. A large fishing boat comes into view in the distance; it blares its horn, the sound muffled by the low layer of fog that still clings to the water’s surface.

“It must be nice to grow up somewhere with sunrises like this every day,” Johnny muses.

Ten hums softly. “I guess. If you live here, though, it doesn’t feel so special.”

“Really?” Johnny says. “That makes sense, I guess, but still. Did you know that this island is one of the first places in the country to see the sun rise every day?”

“Of course I know that,” Ten responds, though he turns and smiles thoughtfully out towards the rising sun. 

“Right, I guess you would,” Johnny says, a little sheepish. “Alright, then, if the sunrise isn’t so special, what’s your favorite thing about living here?”

Ten glances at him, looking a little surprised at the question. “My favorite thing?” he repeats. “I’m not sure.” He pauses for nearly a minute before giving an answer. “Well … you’ll think I’m weird,” he says, to which Johnny shakes his head earnestly. “Okay, I think my favorite part about living here is the winter. Especially right after it snows, it’s so quiet. It almost feels like I’m on a tiny rock floating in the middle of a giant ocean on another planet, and the island is the only piece of solid land in the entire world.”

Johnny isn’t sure what to say to this; he certainly wasn’t expecting that answer. “That sounds …” he begins.

“Depressing?” Ten interrupts with a wry, almost sad, smile.

“No, I was going to say beautiful,” Johnny says, with a soft smile of his own. Ten nods, though Johnny can’t read his expression. 

They continue walking slowly down the beach. When they drift closer together, Johnny’s hand keeps accidentally bumping into Ten’s. He pulls his hand away the first time this happens. The second time their hands brush each other’s, Johnny reaches a tentative finger out to hook around Ten’s. Ten doesn’t pull away, nor does he give any indication that he notices. Johnny slides the rest of his hand around Ten’s, pressing his larger palm gently against Ten's smaller palm. To his surprise, Ten laces his fingers through Johnny’s, pulling their hands closer together.

Johnny is no stranger to handholding, and while it was always a big deal in his earliest relationships, the novelty soon wore off as he got older. In fact, he had grabbed Ten’s hand not five minutes earlier when he pulled him out of the sand, without thinking twice about it. Yet something about this simple point of contact between the two of them sends a wave of warmth that spreads from his hand up to his chest, spilling over into his heart and sending it thudding wildly. He doesn’t speak, almost as though Ten is a moth alighted on his finger, and any sudden movement or sound will spook him. His stomach flips every time Ten’s hand shifts slightly against his. Ten doesn’t pull his hand away, though, just keeps pace with Johnny with his face turned resolutely forward.

When he returns from the run later that morning, having dropped Ten off at his house with a slightly sweaty, panting kiss against the front door, he just responds with “pretty good,” when Doyoung asks him how the run went. Johnny can’t explain it, but he isn’t quite ready to put into words the warm feeling that nestles deep in his chest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this kind of turned into a sports anime for a moment there ... 
> 
> and i think a fluff tag might be warranted at this point? lol 
> 
> as always, ty for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

As July comes to an end, a heat wave hits the island, sending all those but a brave few indoors. Even the ocean can’t save Ten from the insufferable heat, as a nasty riptide rolls in from offshore and forces the lifeguards to shut down the beaches while it lasts.

So, he finds himself sweating his ass off in his cheap plastic stool behind the counter of the general store, selling ice cream to kids that melts before they can even unwrap it. There is no air conditioning in the old building, only a large industrial fan that works about half the time. By the third hour of his shift, Ten feels too drained to get up and walk over to the restaurant to bother Sicheng for lunch, so he takes his break by the deli counter instead, where Yangyang is playing a game on his phone instead of tending to the meats.

Ten slides down the wall onto an overturned plastic milk crate. Yangyang looks up at him from his own milk crate stool, then curses loudly as he gets killed in whatever game he had been playing. “Ah, dude, you made me lose,” he whines, shaking his long bangs out of his eyes. “Whatever. It’s too hot for this.” He slips his phone into his pocket and joins Ten in a melted slump against the metal cabinet behind him.

“Yangyang,” Ten says.

“What.”

“Make me a sandwich. I’m hungry.”

Yangyang scoffs weakly. “Ha, you wish. Last time was the last time, I told you.”

“Yangyaaang.”

“No!”

Defeated, Ten sighs loudly and closes his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall. A slight draft of cool air comes out from under the door of the walk-in freezer in the kitchen and Ten tries in vain to waft it towards himself, but the movement just makes him dizzy, so he stops. His thoughts are a muddled, heat-soaked mess, and as he rests his eyes, the memories from the previous morning float around his mind. Maybe it was the endorphins from the run that made him hold Johnny’s hand. Maybe it was his sleep-deprived brain, having woken up four hours earlier than he normally would on a day off, that made it seem like a good idea. Maybe it was the feeling of Johnny’s large, strong hand against his palm, his grip tender yet firm, warm and comforting. In the moment, it felt like the most natural thing to do.

A bead of sweat drips into Ten’s eye, and he wipes it away.

* * *

Having spent several minutes in the walk-in freezer while Yangyang stands watch for him, Ten feels a bit more energized to finish up the end of his shift. As the last hour winds down, he sits behind the counter, blinking at the old clock on the opposite wall above the display of greeting cards. As soon as the hour hand hits five on the dot, he slides off his stool and walks to the door to flip the sign to “closed” (Sicheng’s uncle lets them close early because of the heat; Ten suspects it was more to save money on his energy bill than out of his concern for his employees, but Ten isn’t about to complain).

Ten flips the sign, then steps outside to bring in the t-shirts and beach gear they have displayed outside the shop. As soon as he opens the door, he gets hit by a wave of heat so strong it feels like standing in front of a giant exhaust pipe. He squints his eyes against it, and as he steps out into the sun, walks straight into a large figure standing right in front of him.

“Oh, sorry – Johnny!” he exclaims, as his eyes adjust to the light and he sees that the person he just walked head-first into is (of course, who else would it be) Johnny, standing there, smiling down at him. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you,” Johnny says, his smile widening.

“Uh – oh, okay,” Ten says, a bit flustered at how close Johnny is now standing in front of him. Johnny wears a loose white tank top that barely covers his wide chest, his skin flushed and tan and dripping with sweat. Though he had felt unusually comfortable with Johnny yesterday after their race on the beach, he now feels slightly nervous.

“What are you up to?” Johnny asks, leaning casually on one of the display shelves.

“We’re closing up early today,” Ten responds. “I just have to put this stuff inside and then I’ll be done.” He indicates to the shelf Johnny is leaning against, where a pile of colorful towels is stacked.

“That’s cool,” Johnny says. Ten stares at him for a moment, before Johnny gets the hint and stumbles off the shelf out of Ten’s way. “Sorry, didn’t realize I was in your way,” he says, looking slightly embarrassed. He watches as Ten gathers the towels into his arms and uses his chin to keep them in place.

Johnny holds the door open, looking down at him with a smug look. (Johnny seems to have a thing for lording his height over him, Ten has started noticing). Ten mumbles a “thanks,” while walking under Johnny’s outstretched arm, ears burning. Johnny is so tall that Ten can fit under his arm without hardly needing to bend over.

Johnny helps him carry the rest of the merchandise to the back room. Yangyang stares with obvious interest at the two of them, and even when Ten gives him a death glare over an armful of inflatable beach balls, Yangyang waves enthusiastically at Johnny. To Ten’s complete dismay, Johnny gives a friendly wave back.

With Johnny helping him, the entire clean-up process takes no longer than five minutes. Ten leaves the keys in Yangyang’s eager paws, entrusting him to lock up, then he and Johnny walk outside to loiter in the small patch of shade provided by the store’s awning.

“Damn, it’s hellish out here,” Johnny says, trying in vain to wipe away the sweat that drenches his forehead. “I was going to ask if you wanted to go swimming, but obviously that’s a no-go. Any other ideas?”

“Not really. I was just going to fill up my bathtub with ice water and lay in it and try not to die. I’m not really sure if that’s a group activity though,” Ten says. At Johnny’s eager expression, he bites back a smile. “You wouldn’t fit in my bathtub, anyway.”

“Aw man,” Johnny says with a playful pout. His face lights up again. “Can I still come to your house, though? I’m so curious what it’s like inside.”

“You are?” Ten asks, dubious (as well as a little anxious at the image of Johnny standing in his family home. It was even nerve-racking when he was just standing in the doorway that morning of the run, his huge body nearly taking up the entire space). “It’s just a normal house.” 

“Definitely! And it beats being outside.”

Ten sighs, looking up at Johnny’s eager, sweaty face. Something in his chest stirs, and even as he tries to ignore it, he answers, “sure, you can come over.”

“Tight,” Johnny says, sliding on his sunglasses and stepping out into the sunny street. “Lead the way.”

* * *

Ten had been right; it feels _super_ weird to have Johnny in his house. The only other person who has been in his house besides himself and his family in years is Sicheng, who is basically part of the family himself. After ducking through the doorway and taking off his shoes, Johnny walks around the entire front room, peering closely at every picture on the wall and knick-knack on the shelves. Ten watches him surreptitiously from the kitchen under the pretense of preparing two glasses of iced tea. With Johnny’s large presence, the house looks smaller, somehow, and Ten is suddenly self-conscious of how old and dusty everything looks. He can’t remember the last time he vacuumed.

Johnny stops to admire one of Ten’s mom’s paintings displayed above the fireplace. This was always one of Ten’s favorites: a wide, dark seascape, almost abstract except for a small boy rowing a boat in the middle of the roiling storm. Most of his mom’s paintings are more commercial – bright blue seascapes, realistic and colorful paintings of sailboats docked by the pier – to sell to tourists or galleries on the mainland. She rarely made anything like this. Ten remembers posing for the painting out in the backyard on a cloudy spring day, squatting in an old laundry basket he pretended was the boat, as his mom sketched him.

Johnny stands in front of the painting for a full minute, seemingly taking in every detail. He turns around as Ten approaches him with the glass of iced tea and accepts it with a grateful sip.

“I like this a lot,” Johnny muses, turning back to the painting. “Where did you get it?”

“My mom painted it,” Ten says.

“Your mom?” Johnny says, looking surprised. “She’s incredible. Look at all this detail in the brushstrokes, wow.” He points to a spot on the canvas, leaning even closer.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you as an art enthusiast,” Ten replies, trying for teasing although it comes out sounding ruder than he intended. Johnny doesn’t seem to notice. Instead, he grins.

“Yeah, you’re not the first person to say that to me. You know, I almost majored in art.”

“No, really?” Ten asks. Now it is his turn to be surprised.

“Yeah … but everyone said it would be a bad idea, so I ended up going pre-med. A complete one-eighty. I don’t mind it, though.”

“Oh. Sorry for saying that, then,” Ten says, feeling genuinely bad about the comment. Ten still can’t picture Johnny as an art kid, but then again, Johnny has been nothing but completely different from Ten’s first judgement of him. 

“Nah, it’s cool,” Johnny says, finally looking away from the painting. “What about you? Did any of your mom’s artistic genius pass on to you?”

Ten hums. “Well, sort of. I don’t do anything like this, though,” he says, indicating to the painting. “Mostly just little sketches, nothing worth hanging up.”

Johnny grins slyly. “Oh, really? Can I see?”

“Absolutely not.”

* * *

“You are so full of shit! These are great,” Johnny says, sitting on the floor of Ten’s room and flipping through one of Ten’s sketchbooks. Ten sits on the bed behind him, silently fuming at having been talked into this but also secretly pleased as Johnny looks through his drawings. They really are nothing special; mostly figure studies and abstract doodles, but Johnny looks at each one with care, sometimes tilting the sketchbook or holding it close to his face to get a better look.

Johnny spends about fifteen minutes looking through each of Ten’s sketchbooks with the same amount of interest and care as he does the first one. Ten stares absently at the back of Johnny’s head (as far as backs-of-heads go, it is a very handsome one) as he does this, still not fully sure what to make of Johnny.

At first, his cold-and-aloof attitude was meant to push Johnny away, knowing that their time together would be necessarily limited. Obviously, that hadn’t worked. Now, several kisses, a few beach dates, and one intense hook-up later, Johnny is sitting on the floor of his childhood bedroom, fully and earnestly absorbed in his art. From their first interaction, Johnny had been nothing but kind and earnest, if a little awkward and with an annoyingly accurate awareness of his own good looks. Ten doesn’t know why Johnny has still bothered to stick around; if he were Johnny, he would never have put up with himself. But Johnny seems to take all Ten’s posturing in stride, looks past his cold sarcasm without any offense or judgement to really see _him_. Other than Sicheng, and to an extent Jungwoo and Taeil, not many people in his life have done that. Even as the thoughts stir up a warm feeling in his chest, one that had been brewing for longer than Ten would like to admit, his gaze lands on the calendar on his wall and his heart sinks. There are only a few weeks left of the summer, only a few weeks until the last ferry of the month carries most of the vacationers back to the mainland. Ten guesses that Johnny has school to go back to at the end of the month, like all the other university students that visit for the summer.

He looks back at Johnny, gaze wandering over his broad, muscular shoulders and wide upper back, feeling a twinge below his belt. He can be angsty on his own time – and god knows he is an expert at that – when there isn’t an attractive man sitting not two feet from his bed, sweating into a shirt that is too loose for his own good.

Ten scoots down the bed and reaches out a hand to run it lightly through Johnny’s soft hair. Johnny turns in surprise, making sudden eye contact with Ten. Ten holds his gaze, lifting his other hand to grasp the hair behind Johnny’s ear and run his fingers through it more firmly. Johnny’s eyelids flutter shut, and he sighs softly, turning back around and letting the sketchbook fall gently out of his hand.

Ten moves his legs on either side of Johnny’s shoulders as he keeps his grip on Johnny’s hair, running the nails of one hand over the sensitive skin at the nape of his neck. When he moves his hands lower to caress Johnny’s chest, Johnny sighs deeply, letting his head fall back into Ten’s lap. Carefully watching Johnny’s response to his touch, Ten continues his exploration of Johnny’s upper body, caressing and grabbing at his hair, chest, and shoulders. He has never done anything like this with a guy before; they’re not even kissing, Johnny is just letting Ten touch him, but Ten’s movements become increasingly needy, and he lets out an inadvertent little whimper as Johnny suddenly arches his back when Ten pulls his hair a little too hard.

Ten leans down and breathes Johnny’s name into his ear. Johnny gives an involuntary shudder, then opens his eyes and turns so their faces are less than an inch apart, Johnny tilting his head up to meet Ten’s face above him. Ten’s face feels flushed; whether from the heat in the room, or the suddenly desperate arousal he feels from seeing Johnny’s gaze linger on his lips, his breathing heavy, he is not sure. Ten’s hands are still on Johnny’s chest, and he can feel how fast Johnny’s heart is beating beneath his ribcage.

He slides off the bed, keeping his hands on Johnny’s pecs as he straddles Johnny’s lap, pushing the larger man into the side of his bed. Johnny lets his hands rest firmly on Ten’s waist as they pull each other closer. Johnny goes for the kiss first, and he grips Ten’s waist tighter as soon as their lips meet, pulling Ten down into his lap. Johnny groans into his mouth when Ten grinds his hips down, their mouths moving hot and wet against each other, then breaks away.

“Why did you come down here?” Johnny asks hoarsely, a teasing smile at his lips, still pushing up to meet the movement of Ten’s hips on his. “I was about to come join you on the bed, where it’s more comfortable.”

“Oh, sorry,” Ten says with a breathy giggle. “Couldn’t help myself.” He digs his claws into Johnny’s chest, then slips a hand lower and up through Johnny’s shirt to feel his muscles. Johnny’s skin is hot and slick with sweat. Beneath Ten’s hand, his stomach rises and falls rapidly in time to his breathing.

Ten leans in to meet his mouth again, biting loosely at Johnny’s lower lip and pulling it back between his teeth. Johnny’s wandering hands move higher up his waist, then are pulling Ten’s shirt over his head. Ten moves back to help Johnny take his shirt off, feeling a thrill at seeing how dazed and needy Johnny looks, staring at Ten greedily as he tosses it aside. Ten shudders at the feeling of Johnny’s large hands rubbing over his exposed back, up to his shoulder blades then back down to his waist. Johnny leans in to suck a kiss into the sensitive skin on Ten’s neck. He moves his mouth lower, sucking and gently biting at the skin on his sternum, licking the cold metal of his necklace.

Ten lets his head fall back, letting Johnny’s firm hands keep his torso upright. This causes blood to rush to his head, and he feels suddenly lightheaded. He pushes at Johnny’s shoulder to get his attention, and Johnny peels away, licking his lips and panting slightly.

“Is it okay?” he asks, eyes worriedly searching Ten’s face.

“It’s great, baby,” Ten breathes, his thoughts and words a bit scattered from how desperate Johnny makes him. “It’s just, you were – .” He stops to take a shaky breath, collecting his thoughts. “You were right, it’ll be more comfortable on the bed.”

Johnny grins loosely, looking relieved. “Good call.” Then he shifts slightly onto his knees, grunting as he grabs Ten by the hips and stands up suddenly, causing Ten to yelp and grab his shoulders for balance. Johnny chuckles, then spins and carefully sets Ten down on the bed.

“What is wrong with you?” Ten huffs, even as he pulls Johnny down on top of him. Johnny laughs, then lifts himself on his elbows to look down at Ten. Ten feels suddenly flustered, with Johnny’s intense gaze so close.

“What?” Ten whispers, heart pounding.

“Nothing,” Johnny responds, his voice low. “You’re just ... cute.” Before Ten can respond, Johnny lowers himself to meet Ten’s mouth again, pressing a soft kiss to his open mouth. Ten almost melts into the touch. He feels lightheaded again, but for a different reason.

* * *

Ten lets Johnny stay the night. The bed is almost too small for the two of them, but Ten doesn’t really mind being pressed up against Johnny’s large frame, despite the dizzying heat of the room. Before Johnny can doze off, he pulls Ten closer to him, hugging him in against his body. Ten rests his cheek on Johnny’s bare chest and drapes an arm over his waist, feeling the rise and fall of Johnny’s deep, slow breathing.

When he is sure Johnny is asleep, Ten sneaks a glance at his face. A gust of air from the rotating fan lifts a lock of hair off Johnny’s face. He stirs slightly in his sleep, twitching his nose and mumbling something incoherent, then returns to his peaceful state.

A surge of affection hits Ten as he looks up at Johnny’s sleeping face. For once, Ten silences the nagging voices in the back of his head, letting the warm feelings stay for a moment longer. He nestles back into Johnny’s warm chest, smiling to himself as he drifts asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one was kind of all over the place . . . but it was fun to write anyway *-* 💚
> 
> (also - almost at 30k words .. did not expect this to get so long lol)


	10. Chapter 10

Johnny startles awake to the sound of his alarm playing loud bird sounds. He sits up, disoriented and blinking into the dark room, before remembering where he is. Beside him, Ten stirs, and Johnny scrambles to find his phone. He desperately pats the bed around him, looking on the nightstand and underneath the pillow. He slides off the bed and follows the sound as Ten grumbles sleepily into his pillow.

“Shit shit shit,” Johnny mumbles to himself, crawling around the floor. Finally he finds his phone, still stashed in the pocket of his discarded shorts (which he finds messily bundled up in a corner by the door along with his shirt, although he doesn’t remember exactly how they got there) and quickly turns off the alarm, fumbling it slightly. “Sorry,” he whispers loudly back at Ten, who gives another grumble in response and pulls the blanket over his face.

Johnny’s heart is still beating from the unexpected wake-up. In all the excitement of the previous night, it hadn’t even occurred to him to turn off the alarm he has regularly set for his morning run. He silences his phone, then puts it back into the pocket of his shorts before slipping back into bed beside Ten. Ten mumbles something that gets muffled by the blanket.

“What?” Johnny whispers, leaning in closer. Ten shifts slightly, although he doesn’t take the blanket off his face.

“Are you leaving?” Ten says again, his voice thick and scratchy from sleep. Johnny can’t help the soft smile that spreads across his face.

“No,” he says, pressing his face into the warm lump of fabric where Ten’s face seems to be. “Go back to sleep.”

Ten mumbles something again, and though Johnny can’t be sure, it sounds something like “good.”

Johnny wraps his long limbs around Ten, listening to the gentle rhythm of his breathing. The rotating fan still whirs softly in the corner, but otherwise the room is still and quiet, the peaceful silence of dawn. Johnny doesn’t fall back asleep just yet. He is savoring this moment, committing it to memory. Ten is no longer just a figment of his childhood imagination, an untouchable dream of a person. He is real, and sweet, and surprisingly affectionate, funny, and fearless – a true individual. And waking up this morning in Ten’s bedroom, something feels different. Now, there is something tender, something growing carefully between them like the new bud of a vine; Johnny is sure of it.

* * *

Johnny wakes up again a few hours later to another incessantly loud bird call. He sits up, blinking against the beam of bright sunlight that comes in through the open window. Ten sits up next to him, rubbing his eyes, and leans over the headboard to shut the window behind the bed. The sound gets muffled slightly by the pane of glass, but Johnny can still hear it.

“Blue jays,” Ten explains, stretching his arms out over his head with an involuntary little squeak. He smacks his mouth with a grimace. “There’s a family of them living in the bamboo. They scream like that every morning. It’s pretty horrible.”

“It’s not so bad,” Johnny says. “I thought it was my alarm again, and I got really confused because I definitely turned it off.”

“That’s good,” Ten says absently, while letting out a massive yawn.

Johnny chuckles at him. “Good morning,” he says, grinning down at Ten. The hair on the right side of Ten’s hair is sticking straight up, so Johnny tries to comb it down with his fingers. Ten shrugs his hand away, although he doesn’t look annoyed at all. Ten rolls over Johnny with a small grunt and lands somewhat gracefully on the floor next to the bed. He starts a series of elaborate stretches that Johnny watches with great interest, laying on the bed with his head propped up on his hand.

“Okay, now you’re just showing off,” Johnny says as Ten lowers himself into a full split.

Ten tuts. “You wish. I do this every morning.” Johnny laughs, ignoring Ten’s affronted look, then climbs off the bed to go dig his phone out of his shorts pocket again. To his surprise, it is just after 11 o’clock.

“I’m going to shower in a bit,” Ten says, now in downward-facing dog. Johnny stares unabashedly at his butt, clad only in a pair of tiny linen shorts. “You can help yourself to breakfast in the kitchen.”

When Johnny doesn’t respond, Ten cranes his neck around to glare at him. “Johnny.”

“I heard you, I heard you,” Johnny grumbles, sadly pulling his eyes away. He pulls on his boxer briefs (which somehow ended up slung over a stack of books on Ten’s dresser) and his shorts, then wanders out into the hallway and into the kitchen. He can’t find where Ten keeps his coffee or his spoons, so he helps himself to a piece of fruit from a bowl on the counter and settles into a chair at the kitchen table. He dials Doyoung’s number and sets it face-up on the table on speaker phone as he peels his banana.

Doyoung picks up on the second ring. “Johnny?” he says, voice crackling through the phone line. ”Where are you?”

“Hey, Doyoung. I’m at Ten’s. Sorry, I meant to text you and Mark last night, but I kind of got … distracted.”

“That’s fine, I figured that’s where you were.” Through the phone, Johnny can hear loud chattering and the sound of silverware clinking.

“Where are _you?_ ” Johnny asks thickly through a bite of banana.

“Mark and I are eating brunch at the restaurant. It’s really nice out today – you and Ten are welcome to join us if you want. Speaking of Ten,” Doyoung continues, “his hot friend is here, that Sicheng guy. At first I thought he was just a waiter, but apparently he’s actually the manager. Pretty impressive, right? Do you know what his deal is?”

“So, you are interested,” Johnny says, smirking to himself. “Just ask him yourself.”

“So?” Doyoung retorts. “I never said I wasn’t. Anyway, just ask Ten about it if you get a chance. You kids have fun! Be safe! Hold on – Mark says hi.” Johnny says hello back, then Doyoung hangs up, and Johnny chuckles to himself as he finishes his banana. He sits at the table for a few more minutes by himself, mindlessly flicking through a vintage fashion magazine until Ten emerges from the bathroom, toweling his short hair dry. Ten sinks into the seat opposite him, his skin fresh and glowing, smelling like lavender soap.

Ten smiles at him, and for once, it isn’t cloaked in a veil of teasing or coyness. Just a nice, normal smile.

Johnny smiles back. “What are you up to today?” he asks, glancing at the clock. “Don’t you have work?”

“Technically yes, but I talked the new kid, Jisung, into covering for me, so I’m free all day until three,” Ten says, flashing his sharp canines as he talks. “What about you? Any big plans?”

Johnny pretends to think. “Hmm … nope. I’m all yours.” He raises his eyebrows suggestively.

Ten nods, his eyes now twinkling playfully. “I just showered, so get your head out of the gutter.”

“Tease,” Johnny grumbles, which earns him a feather-light smack on the wrist.

“Actually,” Ten says, now looking down at his hands; Ten’s face is slightly pink – _is he blushing?_ “If you’re still hungry, I know a really cool place we can go to eat breakfast. Or lunch, depending on how long it takes you to get ready.”

“You mean the restaurant?” Johnny guesses.

“No, but we can go there if you want. I meant somewhere we can bring our own food, like a … like a picnic.” Yep, Ten is definitely blushing. Well, this is certainly a new development.

“The beach?” Johnny guesses again. Ten shakes his head.

“Nope. Just stop naming the most obvious places. It’ll be a surprise, then. And I’m positive you haven’t been to this place, at least, not in the way I’m thinking of.” Johnny racks his brain, but he really has no idea what Ten could be thinking of. The island is truly small: you could probably walk from end to end in under an hour, and there just isn’t the square footage for any kind of secret romantic picnic location. He plays along, of course; he still can’t help but be surprised at how nice Ten is being to him, and he doesn’t want to ruin it by talking too much. 

While Johnny takes a quick shower (Ten had been right, unfortunately: the bathtub would have been way too small for both of them to try to fit), Ten prepares a picnic breakfast for them, complete with a thermos of coffee at Johnny’s request. Johnny was reluctant to change back into his sweaty clothes from the previous day, so Ten had found a spare shirt that would be big enough to fit Johnny in the bottom shelf of a closet in his mom’s room. Johnny dresses quickly, then helps Ten carry the bag of food outside.

Ten leads him to a small shed next to the house which Johnny hadn’t noticed before, as it is partially concealed by the wall of bamboo. The air inside is stale and dusty and Ten sneezes when they step inside. He pulls away a tarp to reveal an eclectic collection of bicycles of various sizes and colors, then turns to Johnny.

“You know how to ride a bike, right?”

“Yes,” Johnny says, though he sheepishly admits that it had been over ten years, maybe twelve, since he has been on one. Ten wheels out the largest bike for Johnny, checks the tires for air, then picks out a smaller one for himself.

“You still won’t tell me where we’re going?” Johnny says as they walk their bikes down the boardwalk of Ten’s street towards the main road. Ten rolls his eyes, a smile playing at his lips.

“Jeez, have some patience. We’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

When they get to the main road, a wide, packed-dirt pedestrian street (there are no cars on the island, only the occasional golf cart or electric scooter) Johnny places the food bag in the basket of his bike and gingerly climbs on. The seat is hard and narrow, but other than that, the bike is just the right height for him. Ten watches in mild amusement as Johnny maneuvers in a careful, slightly wobbly circle around him, trying to get his balance. When Johnny is certain he can ride without falling over or steering into a bush, Ten climbs onto his own bike with ease and leads them in the direction of the northern end of the island.

The morning is bright and clear, still seasonably hot but not as uncomfortable as it had been the past few days. A few lazy clouds drift in the sky, which is a blue so bright it almost looks artificial. Birds and insects hum and chirp in the trees beside the road, and the only industrial sound is the whir of a seaplane overhead. Johnny turns his head with interest to peer down the smaller paths and boardwalks that branch off the main road, leading to quiet roads and houses. A few other bikers pass them, but other than that, they have the road to themselves.

Ten is several yards ahead of him. When he turns his head to look back for Johnny, the wind rustles his short hair and lifts the hem of his shirt. When Ten catches his gaze, Johnny’s breath hitches and he nearly bikes into a streetlight. He straightens out at the last minute, face burning in embarrassment. Ten just laughs and points to a side street ahead of them. Johnny nods and gives a thumbs-up. When he lifts his hand, however, he nearly loses control of the bike again. Luckily, Ten had already turned around and doesn’t see Johnny almost fall off.

He follows Ten down the narrow road, ducking out of the way of the tree branches that hang low over the path. The road stops abruptly at a low metal gate, where a dense growth of grasses and vines obscures the path beyond.

“Here?” Johnny asks skeptically as Ten brakes and climbs off his bike. Johnny does the same. Ten sighs.

“Johnny.”

“Sorry, sorry. I’m being patient. I trust you.”

Ten parks his bike beneath a gnarled old tree and indicates to Johnny to do the same. Johnny grabs the food bag and follows Ten to the gate. Ten tugs at it a few times, but it won’t budge. Ten says, “hmph,” then deftly climbs over the gate, swinging over to the other side. He takes the bag from Johnny’s hand as Johnny follows him over the gate. Johnny wipes the back of his shorts, which had grazed the rusty metal of the gate as he climbed over.

“Why does it seem like we’re always trespassing?” he grumbles teasingly. Ten ignores the comment, instead striding ahead down the path. Although the dense vegetation makes it seem like the path goes on forever, when they round the first corner, it instead opens onto a wide, steep hill. A gentle breeze wafts the smell of salty sea air towards them. Johnny sniffs at it thoughtfully. They must be near the sea; in fact, he can hear the low sound of waves crashing somewhere nearby, even though he can’t see them.

They climb the narrow route up the hill. The path here is mostly overgrown by grass and clovers, with only a narrow line of gravel leading the way. As the get higher, a strange, conical shape topped by a circular knob appears over the peak of the hill. Johnny can’t quite wrap his mind what he’s looking at – a water tower, maybe? He stops to catch his breath and squints up at the strange structure, before a sudden flash of light glares across his line of vision.

“The lighthouse?” he says, fully surprised. Ten turns around and grins at him.

“It’s just over this hill. Keep up.” Ten all but skips the rest of the way up. Johnny jogs to keep up with him, his thighs burning from the effort. When he crests the hill, a flat plane of grass opens up before him, with the narrow gravel road leading up to the base of the candy-stripe lighthouse, now fully in view in its spot at the promontory point of the grassy bluff. Ten is waiting for him at the base of the lighthouse, smiling mischievously as Johnny makes his way over.

“What are you up to now?” Johnny asks, noting Ten’s expression.

“You’ll see,” responds Ten cryptically. He hands Johnny the food bag and turns to face the lighthouse – which is much taller up close, and Johnny feels a little dizzy when he looks up at it – before dropping to his knees and running his fingers intently between the seams of the white-painted bricks. By now, Johnny knows better than to ask, but he is completely mystified. Ten’s fingers catch on something and he grins triumphantly. He uses both hands to grip the brick and pulls, stumbling back on his heels as the brick comes loose in his hands. He drops the brick into the grass and fishes around in the empty space before pulling out a rusted key. He winks up at Johnny.

“My sister’s ex-boyfriend’s dad used to be the lighthouse keeper,” he says, as though Johnny isn’t still left with a million questions. Ten unlocks the door at the base of the lighthouse and shoulders it open, revealing the dark interior. The spiral staircase leading up the lighthouse is windowless and cramped, and Johnny has to stoop so he doesn’t bang his head on the hard metal stairs above him. Their footsteps echo throughout the structure all the way up until the stairway opens onto a circular room. In the center is the actual light itself, a massive lightbulb the size of a barrel set in a protective metal cage.

Ten leads him through a narrow doorway out onto the walkway, which wraps all the way around the circumference of the lighthouse. Immediately, Johnny is buffeted by a gust of strong wind. The entire ocean stretches out before them, its sparkling blue-grey water reflecting the bright sunlight. He can see the entire beach spread out below, though they are so high up that the people look like colorful ants.

Ten leans out over the railing, letting the breeze stir up his hair.

“You see why I made you wait for the surprise?” Ten says, still facing out towards the water. Johnny smiles to himself and leans back against the wall of the lighthouse, watching Ten. He looks so utterly at peace here, eyes glued to the sea with a placid, faraway smile. Johnny is almost afraid to speak, still afraid that at any moment Ten will pull away from him, recoil back into his cold, defensive shell. Johnny is certain that the openness between the two of them, built so carefully over the course of the summer – especially the past few days – is not so fragile that a misspoken word would break it down, but he is sure he senses something else behind Ten’s smile. Not the reluctance or coldness from earlier, but something almost wistful, a kind of longing in his eyes.

Ten pulls himself away from the railing and walks over to where Johnny is standing.

“I’m hungry,” Ten says. “Let’s eat.” Johnny agrees. They sink down against the wall and unpack the food from the bag. Johnny cracks open the thermos, fills two paper cups with coffee, and hands one to Ten, then gives each of them an apple and half a bagel. The air up here is cool and fresh, but the wind is strong, and Johnny nearly loses his hat on two occasions, having to leap up the second time to catch it from blowing away.

When they finish eating, Johnny tosses the empty bag inside the doorway to keep it from blowing away, then scoots closer to Ten. Ten looks up at him through his long lashes.

“This was really nice,” Johnny says. “How often do you come up here? It’s incredible.”

Ten thinks for a moment. “Not that often? I don’t usually have the time. I’m glad you like it, though,” he adds, with an uncharacteristically shy smile.

“I love it,” Johnny responds, leaning in so close he can hear Ten breathing, even over the sound of the wind. Ten’s mouth falls open slightly; Johnny can’t help but stare at the quick darting of his tongue over his lips. Johnny catches Ten’s cheek in his palm, rubbing his thumb over the corner of Ten’s mouth. Ten pushes into the touch, his eyelids fluttering delicately. He lets out a sigh, quiet but needy enough that it makes Johnny’s stomach flip with anticipation. He leans down fully and presses his lips against Ten’s, who opens for him almost immediately. He grips Ten’s face more firmly, tilting it up for a better angle, and Ten moves willingly under his touch. He sucks Ten’s lower lip into his mouth and Ten lets out a shaky breath in response, shifting their bodies closer. Johnny wraps his arm around Ten and pulls him against himself, suddenly needing to feel Ten’s small, warm body against his own. As the kiss deepens, Ten grips Johnny’s shoulder with a firm hand, digging in with his fingers.

Ten pulls away first, breathing heavily as he gazes up at Johnny with dark eyes and swollen lips. He opens his mouth as if to say something, then shuts it. Johnny runs a hand through Ten’s soft hair, then pushes his head gently onto his shoulder. Ten seems to tense up for a moment, not letting his head rest fully on Johnny’s shoulder, before giving in and letting the full weight of his head sink down. Johnny wraps his other arm around Ten’s own shoulder, absently running his fingers over Ten’s arm.

Ten says something then, but Johnny doesn’t quite hear it over the sound of his own heart beating in his eardrums.

“Johnny, what is this?” Ten repeats a little louder, his head still resting on Johnny’s shoulder.

“ … What is what?” Johnny asks distractedly, his head still buzzing from the kiss.

“You know what I mean,” Ten says. Johnny thinks he detects a note of strain in Ten’s voice, although Ten maintains his comfortable position wrapped up in Johnny’s arms.

Johnny sighs, quiet enough that he hopes Ten can’t hear it. He hadn’t been sure if this conversation was going to happen at all, and now that it is, feels a knot of anxiety tighten in his stomach.

“You mean, what is this that we’re doing? Together?”

“Yes.”

Johnny pauses. “Honestly, I’m not sure. But I like it.” Ten pulls his head away then, and gives Johnny a look of such unexpected vulnerability that it almost knocks Johnny back. Ten picks at some loose skin on his fingernail and bites his lip, searching Johnny’s face.

“Johnny, I … I like it too, what we’re doing,” he says, though his eyes fall when he says it. “That’s the problem.”

_Oh no, here it is_. “How is it a problem?” Johnny ventures. “We have fun together, right? At least, I’m having fun. It seems like you are, too.” Ten turns away, leaning his back against the wall to stare out over the horizon. He sighs and lets his head fall back against the wall, closing his eyes for a long minute before opening them.

“Yes, obviously I’m having fun,” Ten says, so quietly and gently that his voice might be carried away by the wind. “Ugh. That’s why I never do this.”

“ … This?”

“Letting myself … letting myself get closer to people in this way. Go beyond the making out, the sex, to this kind of - ” he moves his hand vaguely between Johnny and himself. “This kind of intimacy, or whatever it is. Dates and holding hands, letting you sleep over, that type of thing.” He levels Johnny with a gaze so intense Johnny almost wants to move away, but he stays put. Even as Ten says all this, he picks up Johnny’s left hand and plays with his fingers with a kind of urgency, as though trying to pass a message through Johnny’s skin, trying to communicate something to him through touch as though words alone are inadequate. Johnny swallows drily. “I know that you used to have a crush on me when we were young. And I’m really, really sorry I never noticed. It might have been easier back then, when we were kids. Now, things are just … ugh. Complicated, I guess.”

“Why’s that?” Johnny asks calmly, though his mind is reeling.

“Take a guess,” Ten snaps. He sounds tired though, and Johnny detects the pain thinly veiled by the cutting tone of the outburst. So, he plays it steady, not wanting to upset Ten any further.

“Is it because our lives are too different? Our upbringings?” he guesses.

Ten sighs. “That’s part of it, yes. It’s more like – I’m here all year, and you come waltzing in for the summer, all hot and nice and good, and I just have to stew in my own feelings knowing that you’ll waltz right on out at the end of the month, back to your life, back to college or wherever, and I’ll just be right where you left me. Like I’m some kind of holiday decoration you only take out once a year – you’ll hang me up for a month, then pack me up in a box and keep me in the attic until next year where I’ll be just where you left me, exactly the same but covered in a layer of dust.” Johnny feels the air knocked out of him.

“How could you say that about yourself?” he whispers, head spinning. Ten rolls his eyes at the sky.

“Why do you think? Because it’s true. I’m not saying you would do that to me, at least not intentionally, but that’s just how things are. How could it be any other way?” Listening to Ten, to the raw vulnerability and hurt spilling off his tongue, Johnny wants to take Ten’s heart in his hands and cradle it against his own. “What, do you want me to be your pen-pal? Should I follow you back to the mainland like some love-starved puppy? Or should I just hold my breath and wish on the stars every night until you show up next summer, if you even come at all?”

Johnny knows the words aren’t directed at _him_ , exactly, but they still sting. Especially when he knows there is, of course, truth in what Ten is saying. It’s not like he had not considered what would happen at the end of the summer – he had never done long-distance before, didn’t even know if their relationship, whatever kind of relationship it was, was at that level – but he had been letting himself enjoy it in the moment, happy to just spend time with Ten and let things play out as they will. But now, the thought of letting Ten go _again_ , of possibly letting Ten fall into the back of his memory _again_ , is too painful to bear.

“God, Ten, I … I really don’t know what to say. I don’t have the answers to this.” His voice sounds shakier coming out that he had intended. “I feel terrible that I put you in this position. If I had known …”

“No,” Ten groans, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “Don’t do that. You know you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s my fault for not being more up front with you. And now I’m making a big deal out of things. I knew what was going to happen, and I still let myself fall ... let myself care about you. But I just couldn’t help it.” He gazes up at Johnny. “I feel like this – thing, between us – came out of nowhere. Well, not nowhere, but I still feel like it hit me like a ton of bricks. It’s just such a nice feeling, you know? Comfortable. And I can’t remember the last time I just let myself feel my feelings, if that makes sense.”

“I know what you mean,” Johnny says. “I didn’t expect it either. But I don’t regret it.” He means it. Although this conversation, and all its implications, threatens to crush him under its weight, he wouldn’t trade a single moment they have spent together.

“Neither do I,” Ten responds in small voice. “ … So, what do we do now? Maybe you should just forget everything I said, and we can go back to kissing like the end of August isn’t three weeks away.” Johnny chuckles, and to his surprise, Ten gives a fragile, delicate smile in response. Johnny’s heart nearly bursts at the sight. Ten gives him a long, searching look, as though the answers can be found somewhere in the air between them.

“I don’t want to forget what you said,” Johnny says. Ten’s fingers are still gripping his own, and he gives them a reassuring squeeze. He can feel Ten’s racing pulse through his small palm. “It’s important. How about this – we make as much out of the time we have left here, and we can come back to this conversation at the end of the month? See if we both still feel the same way.” Johnny knows it isn’t the smartest solution to this predicament – he can’t imagine _not_ wanting to be with Ten, and a few weeks is not likely to change that – but he can’t stand the thought of being here and not spending their time together, even if it will make the inevitable goodbye even harder. It’s selfish, if a bit cowardly, and Ten knows it, too. But maybe selfish is okay, sometimes.

Ten doesn’t respond immediately. He just inhales and exhales, in, out, in out. The wind stirs up the hair around his face. Even his long eyelashes flutter in the wind. “Okay,” he breathes. “Let’s do that.”

Johnny scoots back towards Ten. “Okay,” Johnny repeats, then presses a tentative kiss, closed-mouth kiss on Ten’s lips. Ten returns the kiss, letting it linger on the surface. He pulls away slowly then stands up. Johnny, suddenly fearful that Ten has changed his mind and has decided that they should call things off for good, is surprised when Ten tugs at his hand. He stands and follows Ten inside the lighthouse, where Ten pushes him against the cool, brick wall, pressing his small body against Johnny’s and kissing him with an almost desperate intensity that catches Johnny off-guard. Just as Johnny starts getting really into the kiss, Ten pulls away and sinks to his knees.

Surprised, and suddenly flushing very conspicuously, Johnny catches Ten’s hand in his wrist before Ten can fully undo his belt.

“You don’t have to,” he says, worried that Ten is trying to make some kind of point, or is just doing this because Johnny suggested they ‘make as much out of the time’ they have left. Yet Ten smiles up at him with a look of such honest longing and tenderness that Johnny’s heart flips.

“I want to, baby. What about you, is it okay?”

“Yes,” Johnny responds immediately, breath hitching at the pet name. He tenderly runs his hands through Ten’s hair and traces the soft curve of Ten’s lower lip with his thumb. “Please.”

* * *

Ten tells him to keep the bike, at least until the end of the summer.

“That way, you can come over more quickly when I need you,” Ten says with a suggestive smile that sets Johnny’s ears on fire.

Johnny bikes back to his house, so distracted that he nearly steers off the elevated boardwalk into the grassy sand below the path. When he gets to the house, he parks the bike next to the front door, and is silently grateful that Mark and Doyoung don’t seem to be home. He sinks into the Adirondack chair on the porch, rare afternoon beer in hand, eyes wandering over to the lighthouse in the distance. From here, it looks so small. It seems inconceivable that less than an hour ago, he was up there with Ten, at the top of the world.

He takes a sip of the beer and closes his eyes, breathing in the warm, salty air blowing off the ocean. His phone buzzes in his pocket and he takes it out, expecting a text from Mark or Doyoung. To his surprise, Ten’s name pops up, along with a simple, two-word message that Johnny lays awake that night thinking about: _thank you_.


	11. Chapter 11

Ten gives a cursory wave to Sicheng’s parents in the living room before making his way up the stairs to Sicheng’s room. Without saying hello or greeting Sicheng at his spot by his desk, Ten flops face-first onto the bed and lets out a whiny, muffled, “Winwinnn.”

He hears a loud sigh and the rolls of wheels of Sicheng’s chair over the wooden floorboards as his friend scoots over to him. Ten rolls onto his side and looks despondently up at Sicheng through blurry eyes. Sicheng smiles down at him, giving him a pat on the arm. “What’s wrong, Ten?” he asks placatingly.

Ten sighs and sits up, rubbing his face. Sicheng’s eyes rove to his neck and collarbones, which are covered in conspicuous purple-brown marks. He smirks. “Boy problems?” Ten sticks out his tongue.

“This is serious, Winwin.” Sicheng rolls his chair back to his desk, where Ten sees both of his computers – one laptop and one desktop – opened to some complicated-looking spreadsheets. A stack of manila folders and business magazines covers the rest of his desk. “Are you still working? It’s movie night.”

“I know, I know,” Sicheng says. He shuts the laptop and peers closely at the other computer before locking the screen and setting the stack of folders on the floor beside the desk. “I was just finishing something up.” He grabs the laptop and carries it over to join Ten on the bed. “Scoot.”

Ten obliges, making room for Sicheng on the neatly made bed so they are both sitting with their backs against the wall. Sicheng sets the laptop between them, then turns to Ten. “Okay, I’m listening now. What’s wrong?”

Ten buries his face in hands. “I listened to your advice, and now I’m screwed, because Johnny is literally the nicest, cutest, more understanding person I’ve ever met, and everything is horrible.”

Sicheng hums thoughtfully. “Jeez. Is this what’s it’s like to have romantic feelings for someone? Because if so, I’m glad I’ll never have to go through this.” Ten groans in response. “Sorry. Did something change?”

Nothing has changed, not dramatically. After their agreement on the lighthouse, Johnny had stayed over at his house for the past three nights in a row – they’ve been listening to music, playing games, watching movies, not watching movies. So no, nothing huge has changed between them, and yet, with each passing night, Ten has found it harder and harder to imagine Johnny anywhere else but beside him. “Yes. No. I don’t know. I just feel too much. And it sucks.” Ten recounts the day at the lighthouse, including every detail he can remember from their conversation.

“So …” Sicheng says, “to be clear, Johnny says he wants to keep hanging out with you for the rest of the summer? And then see where things go?”

“Pretty much,” Ten mumbles into the pillow he has pressed against his face.

“Hmm … it’s not a very pragmatic solution, is it?” Sicheng says thoughtfully. “Because you’re still in the same situation at the end of the summer, you’re just prolonging the inevitable.”

“Bingo,” Ten says. “And he’s been staying over, and now I don’t want him to leave, but obviously he’s going to leave.” He groans again. “What’s wrong with me? Why does everything have to be so complicated? I hate everything.”

“It sounds like you like him,” Sicheng says evenly, patting Ten reassuringly on the thigh. “That’s pretty straightforward.” Ten shoots Sicheng a glare, but it melts off his face when he sees how patiently and earnestly his friend is smiling at him. “Let’s think through this logically. What are your choices?”

“I guess,” Ten begins, counting off on his fingers, “one, long-distance and we’re both miserable; two, I follow him home like a desperate loser; or three, we never speak to each other ever again and I die alone.” Sicheng raises his eyebrows over his glasses at Ten.

“That’s good – so, if all your options are bad, you have nothing to lose, right?” he deadpans.

Ten frowns at him. “Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m a bummer. But you try spinning it - how can something positive possibly come from this? Those really are my only options. I’m stuck.”

Ten expects Sicheng to crack another joke, or even try to reason with him again. But an unreadable expression starts growing across Sicheng’s face.

“What?” Ten asks, surprised at Sicheng’s lack of response. Sicheng’s eyes dart to his desk, and he suddenly gets up off the bed. “What?” Ten says again, more urgently. Sicheng doesn’t answer, instead walking over to his desk to pull a particularly thick folder out of a drawer. He stays at his desk but swivels in his chair to face Ten.

“ … Those might not be your only options.” He hands the folder to Ten, who takes it reluctantly, a weird pit of anxiety growing in his stomach from his friend’s unusual behavior.

“What is this?” Ten asks. Sicheng doesn’t respond immediately, just lets Ten open the folder. Inside is a stack of legal and business documents, and on top of the stack is a glossy brochure. The brochure depicts a fancy-looking outdoor bar or lounge of some kind, with a glittering skyline view visible in the background. Ten looks up at Sicheng inquisitively.

In response, Sicheng scoots his chair back over to the bed. He takes the brochure from Ten’s hand and opens it to the back, where it shows a picture of a handsome man in a suit leaning casually against a bar. “Do you recognize him?” Ten squints at the picture; the man does look familiar, but Ten can’t quite place him. “This is Jung Jaehyun. You’ve probably seen him around the restaurant – I’m sure I’ve introduced the two of you. He’s been a regular customer for a few years now. Anyway, he owns a bunch of really successful high-end seafood restaurants on the mainland. He and I have been talking, and, well,” Sicheng stops to clear this throat, not meeting Ten’s eyes. “He and I have been talking, and he wants me to go into business with him. He offered to make me part-owner and general manager of the new rooftop place he’s opening up in the city.” Finally, he looks up to meet Ten’s gaze. Although Ten can tell how nervous Sicheng is to tell him this, he can see the excitement bubbling just under the surface. “It’s an incredible opportunity, Ten, and I would be an idiot to pass it up.”

Ten stares at the glossy picture of Jung Jaehyun. As Sicheng has been talking, Ten feels the bottom drop out of his stomach. Realistically, he knows that Sicheng’s skills and ambitions would take him away from the island. He just didn’t know it would be so soon.

“And you were going to tell me, when?” Ten asks quietly, not able to pull his eyes from Jaehyun’s perfect, symmetrical face, with his perfectly dimpled smile and perfectly tailored suit. He feels Sicheng’s eyes searching his face.

“I’ve … Jae has been bringing this up all summer, but I didn’t think he was serious until a few days ago. He came into the restaurant before opening and handed me these papers, just explained all the plans and the timeline for the new place. He really wants me involved from the ground-up. I’ve been thinking really hard about it, so I didn’t want to tell you until I had made up my mind for sure.”

“And?” Ten says, sharper than he intended. “You made up your mind?” Sicheng gently takes the brochure from Ten’s hand and places it gingerly back in the folder, which he sets on the ground. He gets off the chair and climbs into bed next to Ten, reaching carefully for Ten’s hand. Ten lets him hold it, his limp hand in Sicheng’s firm one.

“I talked it over with my parents earlier this morning, and they think I should do it. I wanted to talk it over with you, first. Your opinion matters the most to me, out of everyone. But you’ve sort of been … distracted recently, so I couldn’t really find a good time. I was going to bring it up tonight, actually, but then we started talking about Johnny right away, and I didn’t want to just cut you off and start talking about my thing.” He squeezes Ten’s hand. “When I said you might have another option? That reminded me of the other thing I wanted to talk to you about.”

Ten looks up at him in confusion. “Right, what does any of this have to do with me or my boy problems?” At this, Sicheng smiles, then leans over the bed to grab the folder again. He shuffles through the papers, then pulls out what looks like a printed email with a series of pictures attached to the bottom, placing it in Ten’s hand.

“Jae has been helping me look for places in the city close to where the restaurant will be. He sent me this apartment, which is in the building next door to his, right in the city center. Look,” he says, pointing at the description of the apartment. “It’s a two bedroom.”

“Two bedrooms …” Ten repeats, realization slowly sinking in. “You want me to move with you?” He looks into Sicheng’s eyes, caught somewhere between disbelief and dizziness. Sicheng returns the look with a soft, probing smile.

“Only if you want, of course. I - I am going to accept Jae’s offer. I’ve been dreaming of an opportunity like that for years. But,” he says, “honestly? I’m terrified to leave. This island is all we’ve ever known, and I don’t want to do it alone. We could have so much fun together. And if you hate it, you can always come back here whenever you want.”

Ten is completely speechless. In all the scenarios in his head of Sicheng leaving, they all involved Ten getting left behind as Sicheng went off to live a glamorous life of champagne, models, and fancy business deals. It is irrational, of course, but he couldn’t help those thoughts that pushed their way in whenever he saw his friend at work, clearly wasting his talents on this tiny island. Sicheng continues. “Honestly, forget about Johnny for a second. This is about you. What do you want to do?”

What does he want? This is not the first time they are having this conversation this summer, and he has thought about it more in the past few weeks than he ever has. Sicheng is right; he shouldn’t make this decision to follow some boy, even if that boy is attractive and kind and cares about Ten in a way that almost no one else has. The island is his home. Standing atop the lighthouse the other day, he had felt that more than ever – the beach, the ocean, and yes, even the winters – are a part of him. Yet this summer, especially with both his mom and sister on the mainland, he had been starting to feel the isolation and stagnation of island life more than ever. Two more of his former classmates had left to join the marines, leaving him and Sicheng as the only two holdouts.

“So, I can leave whenever I want?” he asks, carefully watching Sicheng’s face.

Sicheng’s eyes light up hopefully. “Yes, of course! Try it for a few months, and if you don’t like, just come back here. I won’t take it personally. And,” he says, grinning at Ten, “you’ll be closer to Johnny. His school is in the same city, right? This way, you’re not following him anywhere. You’re leaving of your own accord, and Johnny will just happen to be nearby. So, if things don’t work out, you’re not stuck in an awkward limbo. And if things do work out, you’ll be able to do it comfortably, without worrying about having an ocean separating you.”

Ten closes his eyes, suddenly feeling close to tears. He’s not sure exactly what the tears are for – anxiety, relief, longing – but the surge of emotions he has been holding in threaten to spill out. The thought of leaving his home is almost too painful to bear, but he feels a stirring in his gut – tentative excitement, even giddiness – at the thought of starting this new life with his best friend. The two of them, taking on the world together.

“Wait,” Ten says, eyes snapping open, “how will I pay rent? I don’t have a job or anything. I don’t want to rely on you.” Sicheng thinks for a moment.

“I can help you find something. Or I’m sure Jae can find something for you at one of his restaurants. You have some savings, don’t you? Use those for the first month or so until you get on your feet.” A careful smile spreads across Sicheng’s face. “So, does this mean that’s a yes for sure? You’re really considering it?”

Ten sighs, but he meets his friend’s eyes. “Yes. I’ll go with you, okay?”

“Yay!” Sicheng squeals, suddenly crushing Ten in a hug that knocks both of them backwards. “I’ll get all the details sorted with Jae tomorrow, so you don’t have worry about any of it. I got it all covered.”

“Thanks, sugar daddy,” Ten grumbles, voice muffled by Sicheng’s shoulder, but he can’t hold in his smile. This is really happening, then.

After Sicheng sends a few excited emails to Jaehyun – despite promising to wait until the next day – they pick a movie and settle in for the night. Ten can’t fully focus on the movie, though. He keeps thinking about Johnny, and what he’s going to tell him. He assumes Johnny will be happy about the news, but what if he’s not? What if it changes things? What if Johnny doesn’t really want to keep seeing him, thinks it’s suffocating and weird, too soon, too forward, like Ten is seemingly following him home? Sicheng must be able to tell something is still bothering Ten from the way he keeps fidgeting and glancing at his phone, because he pauses the movie about twenty minutes from the end and turns to Ten.

“Thinking about Johnny?” he asks sagely.

“Ugh. Yes,” Ten responds. “Sorry. I was thinking I should talk to him later in the summer, like right before he leaves, but I honestly don’t think I’ll be able to sleep until I get it out of my system.”

“What about now?” says Sicheng.

“Now?” Ten repeats. “It’s almost midnight.”

“So? I’m sure he’d love to hear from you. Text him and see if he’s up.”

Sicheng resumes the movie while Ten takes his phone out of his pocket and pulls up his text conversation with Johnny. His thumbs hover over the keyboard. Finally, he sends the text.

> _Meet me at the beach?_

Almost immediately, Johnny hearts the message and responds.

> _Where?_

Ten replies:

> _The firepit_

Johnny hearts that message too. Ten slides his phone back in his pocket and gets up off the bed. “I’m meeting Johnny,” he says. “I’ll probably be a while, so you can finish without me, sorry. I feel like we haven’t finished a movie in ages.”

“Don’t apologize, dummy. We can have movie night every night when we’re living together.”

“True.” Ten gives Sicheng a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving the house and heading in the direction of the beach, his stomach in knots.

* * *

Ten thinks he’ll be the first one there, but his heart drops into his stomach when he sees Johnny’s tall frame silhouetted against the moonlit sky. The night is pleasantly warm with a gentle breeze, but Ten doesn’t notice. All he can focus on is the pounding of his heart, adamant against his ribcage, as he approaches Johnny.

When he gets closer, Johnny stands and beams down at him. He pulls Ten in for a kiss, and Ten all but melts against Johnny’s solid body. He is surprised at how comfortable he feels in Johnny’s arms, how perfectly and easily he fits. Johnny smiles into the kiss and Ten feels some of his anxiety fall away, though his heart is still racing. Johnny had only left his house this morning, but for some reason, it feels like forever since they’ve seen each other. Ten finally pulls away and buries his face in Johnny’s neck, breathing in the familiar scent of his skin. Johnny wraps his arms around Ten’s back and rocks their bodies together in a crushing bear hug, chuckling into Ten’s hair.

“Hi,” he murmurs, his breathing tickling the top of Ten’s ears.

“Hi,” Ten whispers back. He had been planning to sit Johnny down right away and tell him about his plans, but faced with all the unknowns that that conversation could bring, he loses the nerve. Instead, he squirms around until Johnny releases him from the hug. He steps back and gazes up into Johnny’s face, that bright smile that could probably power the entire island for a year.

“What’s up?” Johnny says, his arms still loosely resting on Ten’s hips.

Ten says the first thing that pops into his head. “Let’s swim.”

Johnny lets out a short laugh. “What, now? It’s the middle of the night.”

“So? We have the whole ocean to ourselves,” Ten says.

“That is tempting …” Johnny says, eyes twinkling at the suggestion. “But isn’t it dangerous? There’s no lifeguard or anything.”

“Johnny,” Ten says firmly, stepping back far enough that Johnny’s hands fall away from his hips. “I practically learned how to swim before I could walk. It’s fine.” Johnny opens his mouth to reply, but lets his mouth hang open at the sight of Ten suddenly peeling off his shirt. Seeing the effect that this has on Johnny – despite their having seen each other without clothes many times over past several weeks – Ten wriggles out of his pants and underwear more slowly, meeting Johnny’s eyes with a coy look as he steps out of them. Their important conversation can wait.

Johnny approaches him again, gazing down at his body admiringly. He traces his fingers lightly up Ten’s sides, just barely ghosting over his skin, and Ten shivers at the touch. “Wow,” Johnny breathes.

“What? You’ve seen me naked before,” Ten says, jutting out his chin defiantly, though he can’t mask the flush that creeps up his chest from the hungry look in Johnny’s eye.

Johnny’s fingers trace over the soft skin on his collarbone in neck. He lets his hands fall again to Ten’s hips, grazing over the muscle, then firmly pulls him forward. Ten’s breath hitches at the feeling of Johnny’s clothes rough against his bare skin, feeling suddenly shy and exposed in Johnny’s overpowering presence. Johnny leans in and breathes into Ten’s ear, “you’re beautiful.” Ten shivers and lets out a small, shaky sigh when Johnny pulls away.

Johnny undresses quickly himself, then kicks his clothes into a messy pile on the sand next to the firepit. Johnny’s awkwardness seems to disappear as he draws himself to his full height, the moonlight casting a faint blue glow over his long, muscular torso and heart-stoppingly handsome face. Feeling suddenly self-conscious under Johnny’s strong gaze, Ten looks away, blushing, then nods in the direction of the ocean.

“Come on,” he says, then walks towards the water, feeling Johnny’s gaze burning into his back. Johnny soon follows, jogging to catch up with him.

“Have you really done this before? Night swimming?” Johnny asks as they stand inches from the surf, letting the waves lick at their feet.

“A few times,” Ten says honestly, “though it’s been a while. The moon is so bright, it’s a perfect night for this.” And it is; the moon is almost full and the sky is perfectly clear, scattering bright light across the waves that illuminates the beach like a spotlight.

“Ready?” Johnny asks. Just as Ten is about to turn his head to nod, Johnny is suddenly at his side, picking him up by the waist with surprising ease. Ten yelps in surprise, clinging onto Johnny’s neck for support.

“What are you doing?” he squeals, batting at Johnny’s upper arm, tight and strong around him. But Johnny just grins and walks into the surf, ignoring Ten’s protests. Ten shrieks as a wave rolls in, soaking him and Johnny in the water, which is surprisingly and pleasantly warm. Johnny just laughs, but he grips Ten tighter anyway to make sure he doesn’t slip out of his hold.

The sea is relatively peaceful at this time of night, so Johnny easily makes it to the shallow, calmer area just past the breakers, where the water level just grazes his shoulders. “Do you want to stand?” Johnny asks, shifting Ten in his hold to keep him from slipping out.

“No,” Ten says, “you can keep holding me.”

“That’s what I thought,” Johnny replies with a smirk. In the water, Ten easily maneuvers himself so his legs are wrapped around Johnny’s waist and his arms are wrapped around his neck. Under the water, Johnny’s body feels smooth and slippery against his own skin, and Johnny grips under Ten’s thighs to keep him upright. “This is nice,” Johnny says, pressing his mouth against the sensitive spot behind Ten’s ear. “You’re like a mermaid.”

“I’m like a what?” Ten replies incredulously, but his teasing words turn into a surprised hiss when Johnny starts sucking at the skin on his neck, licking off the salt water with his warm tongue. Ten lets out a low moan, tightening his legs around Johnny’s waist to pull them closer. In response, Johnny tightens his own grip on Ten’s thighs, and Ten shudders in surprise at the slippery friction of Johnny’s stomach between his legs.

“Someone’s excited,” Johnny murmurs into his neck, which would be a ridiculous thing to say if not for the raw, needy desire present in his voice. And Johnny’s not wrong, either; Ten had been nothing but fully aroused since the moment Johnny picked him up.

Ten tilts his face down, pressing his mouth against Johnny’s in a deep, open-mouthed kiss. Their tongues slot together, the taste both sweet and salty. Although the position is slightly awkward, Ten flexes his hips against Johnny’s, rubbing them together as best they can. The back-and-forth tug of the water below the surface makes it difficult for Johnny to balance, though, so they go back to just making out (though Ten isn’t complaining, as he still feels a jolt of excitement at feeling how turned-on Johnny is, even when they are just kissing).

They break away eventually when Johnny’s arms get too tired to hold Ten up any longer. They swim around for a while, diving in and out of the gentle waves and occasionally catching each other for kisses. Every time Ten catches Johnny staring at him, he feels a surge of affection in his stomach so strong it almost makes him nauseous. The way Johnny smiles back at him, pure and unrestrained, he is sure Johnny must feel the same way.

* * *

They leave the water when Ten starts feeling tired, the late hour (and his nerves) starting to catch up to him. Johnny sets out his clothes in the sand for Ten, then lays down and opens his arms. Ten curls up next to him, laying his head on Johnny’s bare chest, feeling the rise and fall of his ribcage against his cheek. Johnny’s body is still wet, and it feels cool against his flushed skin. Johnny strokes his large hand down Ten’s back, humming absently into his hair. Ten could almost fall asleep in his arms like that, naked yet completely safe and protected, if he didn’t have those nagging thoughts bouncing around his skull, threatening to spill out.

“Johnny,” he says tentatively.

“Hm?”

_Might as well get it over with_. “I’m – I’m leaving.” Johnny’s hand pauses for a moment, then slowly continues its movement.

“ … Leaving?”

_Here it goes._ “At the end of the summer. With Sicheng. I’m leaving the island.” At this, Johnny stops completely, then sits up. Ten is almost afraid to meet his eyes, to see the look in Johnny’s face.

“You’re leaving,” Johnny says carefully, almost like he is testing the sound of the words. “You’re … leaving. Is it – is it because of me?”

“No,” Ten says, finally chancing a look at Johnny. Johnny doesn’t look disgusted or weirded out. He just looks surprised, and something else that Ten can’t decipher. “I’m not following you back, if you’re worried about that. I know you said we should wait until the end of the summer to figure things out, but it turns out that Sicheng has a job opportunity on the mainland, and he wants me to go with him. To live with him, as roommates. So I don’t know if that changes things, or … I don’t know, I just needed to tell you.”

“You want to leave?” Johnny asks, still sounded like he can’t wrap his head around the idea. “But, this is your home; I thought you never wanted to live anywhere else?”

“It is,” Ten replies, dropping his head into his hands. “But I’ve been thinking about it so, so much, you have no idea. And, well, I think I need to do this. I’ve been so stuck, on the island, and not just physically. I think it will be good to see the world outside of this bubble, to try to find myself. I just can’t do that here.” Johnny is silent for a long minute, staring thoughtfully out at the dark sea. Ten is such a nervous wreck, waiting for Johnny to respond, that he is tempted to grab his clothes and run all the way home. “We’ll be going to the same city that your school is in,” Ten rushes out, trying to fill the silence. “Like I said, I’m not following you, and if you don’t want to keep seeing each other, then I completely get it. I don’t want to put any kind of pressure on you, just because we’ll be close together, but – but if you do want to keep seeing each other …” he trails off, increasingly self-conscious of his unattractive rambling.

Eventually, Johnny speaks. “That’s … that’s really brave of you. That must be such a hard decision, I can’t even imagine it.” Ten feels the prickling of tears again and pushes them back. Of course, Johnny knows exactly what to say to cut right to his heart.

“It is hard,” Ten says in a quiet, slightly shaky voice. “I’m really scared, honestly.”

“Of course you are!” Johnny says. “It’s like a new chapter of your life – but that’s really exciting, too. So … about us, then.”

“ _Us_.”

“You make it sound so ominous when you say it like that,” Johnny says, teasingly bumping his shoulder against Ten’s. “I mean – look, let me just put it all out there.” Ten’s nerves rush back at the sudden change in tone. “I do want to keep seeing you. Forget whatever crush I had on you when we were kids; I’ve gotten to know who you are now, and you’re an amazing person. I would be stupid to let you go, again. But,” he says, turning more fully to Ten and looking him in the eye. “What we’re doing now, I don’t really know what it is. It’s fun, don’t get me wrong – spending time with you is the best. But I don’t want to keep doing it like this – ” Before he can finish, Ten interrupts him.

“Okay, that’s fine, I get it – ” he says, making to stand up, unable to keep the wavering out of his voice.

“Ten!” Johnny says adamantly, grabbing Ten’s wrist and pulling him gently back down. “Listen to me, I wasn’t finished! What I’m saying is that I want to date you for real. None of this casual, fling business.”

“Oh,” Ten says, dazed and mind reeling. He sinks back down next to Johnny.

“What about this – I’m leaving next week, and you’re leaving at the end of the summer. How about you get settled into your new place, find a job, get comfortable. Then, when you have your stuff sorted out, when you feel comfortable and sure that you want to stay, you let me know. Then, I’ll ask you out for real. Do this properly. Flowers and everything.”

“Flowers?” Ten scoffs, but his insides are threatening to bubble over from happiness. Johnny actually wants to keep seeing him. He doesn’t think Ten is a crazy stalker or loser. And what he is proposing makes perfect sense: it gives both of them the opportunity to sort through their own lives before committing to anything more serious than either of them is ready for. He doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry from relief. 

“Yes, flowers,” Johnny says. “What are your favorites? I feel like roses would be too cliché for you. I need something more unique. Hydrangeas? Queen Anne’s lace? Orchids? Gardenias?”

“Why do you know so many types of flowers?” Ten says, unable to help himself from crawling into Johnny’s lap.

“I used to work at a flower shop,” Johnny says through a wide grin, hands drifting reflexively to Ten’s waist.

“Of course you did,” Ten says, rolling his eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Johnny protests, though his words are muffled by Ten’s mouth on his. Ten pushes Johnny back down into the sand by the shoulders, sliding his legs around Johnny’s hips. Johnny lets himself fall willingly, groaning into Ten’s mouth as Ten starts to grind down against him.

“We’re still making the most of the time we have left here, right?” Ten pants into Johnny’s mouth, satisfied by the low moans he keeps pulling from Johnny. Johnny can’t respond right away, instead too focused on touching as much of Ten’s body as his hands can reach.

“Yeah – oh god,” he moans as Ten presses his hips down harder. “Ten – is, is that okay with you? My plan for us? You sure you’re comfortable with that?”

“It’s perfect, baby,” Ten responds, whimpering breathily as Johnny’s wandering fingers find a particularly sensitive spot. And it is – although Ten would never have thought of it himself, his heart flips at the thought of Johnny showing up to his door holding flowers like some movie heartthrob, taking him out on a real first date. And there are so many places in the city they could go: the movies, the park, a restaurant that isn’t owned and staffed by countless members of Sicheng’s extended family … and for the first time, he can picture his life on the mainland in almost perfect clarity.

* * *

Johnny walks him home, them both shivering and slightly damp but giddy and holding hands the whole way. Johnny tries to give him a piggy-back ride to carry him home, but ends up being too tired and drops Ten after about fifteen seconds. Although Johnny initially insists that he’s going to walk back to his house because his friends miss him, he follows Ten inside and falls asleep almost immediately on Ten’s couch. Ten drapes a blanket over him and curls up against Johnny, pulling Johnny’s long arm over himself. He can’t help the way he keeps smiling to himself into the dark of the living room, mind buzzing but feeling oddly calm at the same time.

Johnny’s gentle snoring eventually lulls him to sleep, and Ten dreams of crashing waves and flowers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 💚💚💚  
> Next chapter will probably be the second-to-last!  
> Thank you to everyone who's read this far ^-^  
> Nctizens, ily <3


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 💚

“Mark!” Doyoung shouts down the hall, leaning around the kitchen counter. “What are you doing? We’re going to be late!”

Johnny lounges on the living room couch, his backpack piled up by the door along with Doyoung’s. Their ferry isn’t for another hour, but Doyoung had insisted on getting to the pier early to make sure they are one of the first in line. He and Johnny had both packed the night before, assuming Mark would do it the morning of, as usual. And, as expected, Mark’s backpack hadn’t been by the door when they woke up, and he hasn’t left his room all morning. Johnny doesn’t really mind – it takes only five minutes to get from their house to the pier, and he is in no rush to leave – but Doyoung is just about fuming.

“Mark!” Doyoung shouts again.

“Coming!” comes Mark’s voice from down the hall, followed by the muffled sounds of laughter. Johnny and Doyoung exchange a look. Mark’s door finally swings open and he stumbles into the hallway, followed closely at the heel by Donghyuck. Mark’s hair is suspiciously disheveled and Donghyuck has his shirt halfway down his chest, though he makes no attempt to pull it down all the way.

“Oh, hi, Donghyuck,” Doyoung says with a pressed-lip smile, “didn’t know you were here!”

“Yep,” Donghyuck says, giving Johnny a two-finger salute as he passes. Mark giggles, grabbing Donghyuck’s upper arm and following him to the door.

Donghyuck turns and grabs Mark by the collar, pulling him in for a deep, loud kiss. Johnny barely holds in a laugh at the disgusted expression on Doyoung’s face. Donghyuck breaks away dramatically, leaving Mark pink in the face and breathing heavily. “See you around, Mark,” Donghyuck says with a smirk, before finally adjusting his clothes and stepping through the front door.

“Bye,” Mark squeaks out, staring at Donghyuck’s retreating form until Donghyuck is no longer visible. Johnny looks at Mark in amusement, until Doyoung snaps the poor boy out of his reverie.

“Mark,” he says again, voice still firm but a shade gentler. Mark blinks then spins around, as though noticing Johnny and Doyoung in the room for the first time. “You good?”

“Who, me? I’m great!” Mark says, distractedly combing his fingers through his messy hair.

“So glad to hear it. So why aren’t you ready to leave? I told you we had to be out the door by eleven.”

“It’ll take me five minutes to pack! You need to chill, my guy.” With that, Mark stalks off back down the hall, where Johnny hears the clattering sound of drawers shutting before Mark reemerges a few minutes later, backpack in hand and hair brushed down flat.

“Alright, let’s blow this popsicle stand,” he says, grinning at Doyoung and Johnny. “Any last words?”

“Yes,” Doyoung says, joining Mark at the doorway and slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “What is wrong with you?”

“I love you, too,” Mark coos at Doyoung, who bats his hand away. Johnny takes one last look at the house, committing it to memory, before he follows his friends out the door into the bright, mid-morning sun.

* * *

While Doyoung and Mark hold their place at the front of the line, Johnny walks to the general store. He pushes in through the door and is met with the familiar, musty smell of the old wooden building. Most tourists have already left for the summer, so the store is emptier than it normally would be around midday. When the bell above the door jingles, Ten looks up from his book, slumped over the counter in his usual spot, and casts Johnny a smile so bright that it nearly knocks the wind out of his lungs.

Johnny waves, feeling suddenly nervous, and makes his way to the counter. Ten sets his book down and sits up straight as Johnny approaches.

“Hi,” Ten says. He looks particularly good today – or maybe Johnny is just being sentimental – in a loose white tank top and bright green dangly earrings that complement the tanned flush of his skin. “Your ferry is leaving soon?”

“Yeah,” says Johnny, pointing his thumb vaguely in the direction of the door. “In about twenty minutes. But we have to board earlier.” He isn’t sure what to say to Ten after that, feeling suddenly awkward. He has always been bad with goodbyes, and this is no exception, especially given the tentative ground that their budding relationship stands on. Should they hug? Kiss? Shake hands? Ten keeps smiling at him, though, so Johnny feels like he should be doing something other than standing there staring back at Ten, so he leans awkwardly across the counter and plants a kiss on Ten’s cheek. Ten snorts in surprise.

“What was that?” Ten laughs, as Johnny pulls back and flushes in embarrassment.

“What – I don’t know, just a kiss! I just thought it would be nice, in the moment …”

“It was nice, I was just surprised,” Ten says, his eyes twinkling. “Do it again.” Johnny starts, but wastes no time in leaning in, zeroing in on Ten’s cheek. But Ten tilts his head slightly to the side, and Johnny’s kiss lands on Ten’s lips, soft and pink and slightly parted in a smile. Johnny makes a noise of surprise, which turns into a satisfied hum as Ten grabs his jaw and pulls him in for a deeper kiss. Johnny doesn’t even notice the discomfort of the counter digging into his stomach as Ten licks into his mouth, his breath warming Johnny’s lips every time he pulls back to shift the angle of their faces. The kiss is passionate, sure, but also sweet and tender, and Johnny notices a look of longing in Ten’s face when they finally pull apart. Ten is blushing slightly, but so is Johnny.

They stare at each other for a long moment, Ten’s deep black eyes searching Johnny’s face. Johnny doesn’t want to make Ten be the first to speak, so he says, “good luck with everything. Really, I mean it.”

“Thanks. You too.”

Johnny hears the loud blaring of the ferry’s horn, audible even from inside the store, which signals the beginning of boarding. He suddenly feels the desperate, urgent need to tell Ten something – he isn’t sure what, but he feels a million words on the tip of his tongue that slip away whenever he opens his mouth – words to reassure Ten about the future, to thank him for giving him a chance, for letting Johnny get to know who he really is; something, anything. But the words all fall short when Ten smiles, soft, sweet, and a little sad. Ten casts a glance to the door. “I guess you have to go.”

Johnny swallows, feeling that his feet are suddenly made of lead. Although he knows, rationally, that he and Ten have a plan for moving forward, he is suddenly terrified of all the unknowns, all the variables that might pull him and Ten apart, again, and it sets his stomach in knots. “Yeah.”

“Text me, okay?” Ten says. Johnny nods and swallows again.

“I will.” He has to say something more. “I – I can’t wait to see you again.”

He is afraid – irrationally so – that Ten might laugh, but Ten just smiles warmly and says, “don’t worry. We will.”

“I know,” says Johnny. He wants to kiss Ten again, to hug him, but he is sure that if he does so, he’ll never be able to pull himself away. So he gives Ten the biggest, goofiest smile he can muster, and leaves the store with a wave of the hand.

* * *

* * *

It is mid-September when Ten finally leaves the island. His mom had returned from the mainland at the end of the August to help him pack and sort through the surprising amount of stuff he has accumulated over his twenty-one years of living in the house, and they manage to fit all his clothes, shoes, books, art supplies, makeup, and various other things into one large suitcase, a duffel bag, and a backpack.

Sicheng leaves first. He ends up living with Jaehyun for a few weeks before he can get the lease and utilities sorted for the new apartment before he and Ten can move in. The lease takes longer than they expect to get approved, and Ten waits on pins and needles before Sicheng finally calls him at the beginning of the third week of September to let him know they can move in.

As Ten stands on the ferry, which pulls out of the dock slowly then picks up speed as they get farther into the bay, he watches the island shrink into the distance until it is just a faint green blur on the horizon. It feels completely surreal. He had been so sure he would never live anywhere else – had only entertained the idea in the most far-fetched dreams of his childhood – and now that it is happening, he feels his heart stretched between the island and the mainland, between of the anxiety of leaving behind his past and the excitement of stepping into his future.

His aunt picks him from the ferry and drops him off at the bus station at the edge of the city. Following Sicheng’s carefully detailed instructions, he manages to buy a bus pass and find the correct bus line that will take him straight to the city center. He has been to the city a few times before when he was a kid, but as the bus crawls its way through the early evening rush-hour traffic, he still stares in unabashed amazement as the low buildings and townhouses give way to massive skyscrapers that disappear into the haze of the clouds above.

Sicheng is waiting for him at the bus stop and pulls Ten into a crushing hug before helping him carry his luggage the few blocks to their apartment building. It feels so weird to see Sicheng anywhere but the island, but he seems to fit right into the city, his clothes a little sharper and his hair combed back in a professional style that shows off his dark eyebrows.

Their apartment building is huge and much nicer than Ten was anticipating – with a doorman and everything – and Sicheng leads him into the mirrored elevator and presses the button for the tenth floor.

Compared to the size of the building, the apartment is relatively small, with just a living room, kitchenette and two bedrooms, but it is the view that takes Ten’s breath away. Visible out of the window in the kitchen, through the surrounding buildings, is a glittering sliver of the ocean. The pang of homesickness he feels upon seeing it is soon forgotten as he gazes out at the city below them, the spidering network of streets and buildings that seem to be almost alive with the constant movement of people and cars.

Sicheng has mostly already unpacked, so he helps Ten settle into his room. His bedroom and the rest of the apartment are furnished only with the bare essentials (pretty much whatever the previous tenant had left behind) so they spend the next week visiting antique shops and home goods stores around the city, having way too much fun picking out furniture and useless little trinkets to decorate the empty shelves. Ten sleeps very little the first week in the apartment, so accustomed to hearing just the gentle humming of crickets and rustling of bamboo that the sound of distant sirens, helicopters, and unidentifiable industrial noises keep him up all night for days in a row.

Jaehyun – who turns out to be much nicer than he had looked in his photo on the brochure – gets Ten an interview at one of his restaurants, a low-key French bistro just a few stops away on the bus. Despite his nerves and embarrassingly short resume, Ten manages to get a position as a waiter, full-time five nights a week. The hourly pay is nothing to write home about, but his eyes pop out of his head when he gets his tips the first night of working: he makes more in one night at the bistro than he had in two weeks at the general store.

Although Sicheng pays the lion’s share of the rent with the money he makes from the restaurant, Ten can’t help how proud he is when he sends Sicheng his percentage. He just feels so mature, paying his own rent in his own apartment with his own money. To celebrate, he and Sicheng crack two bottles of wine and cook an elaborate dinner; or as elaborate a dinner as they can make in the cramped space of the kitchenette.

Later that week, a large, rectangular package arrives at the apartment, which Ten unwraps with jittery hands as soon as he drags it inside. In the package, wrapped carefully in butcher paper and bubble wrap, is his mom’s painting – _The Boy in the Storm_ , which had hung for so many years in its spot above the fireplace, which Johnny had stopped to admire during his first time at Ten’s house. Ten hangs it carefully on the blank space of wall above the couch, and when he steps back to check that it is level, he almost bursts into tears. Finally, it feels like home.

* * *

Since he had arrived in the city, Ten had been texting Johnny as regularly as he could, although with the whirlwind of moving and starting his new job, as well as Johnny’s own busy school schedule, it is often no more than a few messages a day. The messages are always sweet, though; sometimes, Johnny just asks about his day, or sends him a funny video, or tells him about something that happened at school. And Johnny always texts him before bed, a simple _good night_ with a heart.

They still haven’t seen each other or talked about their relationship further by the time October rolls around. Ten begins school, too – Sicheng first gives him the idea, showing Ten an advertisement on his phone he had seen for classes at the community college nearby. Ten had humored Sicheng by looking up the school, but when his eyes caught on the listing for art classes, he hadn’t been able to get it out of his mind. Using his savings from the store and the wages he has leftover after rent, he signs up for a figure drawing class two days a week and is immediately hooked. He spends nearly all his free time working on assignments for the class, sketching himself in the mirror (he would sketch Sicheng, but his friend works odd hours at the restaurant, often late into the night, and when he gets home usually pours himself a glass of wine and falls asleep almost immediately). Ten hangs his drawings all around the apartment when he runs out of space in his room.

By the middle of October, Ten finally feels settled in. He has his routine of classes, work, and spending his free time either with Sicheng or exploring the city by himself. The city noises – which for so long kept him awake at night – soon fade into the background, and he can walk around without feeling like he is about to be swallowed up by the sea of pedestrians. And, he is pleasantly surprised to find that his earrings and make-up, which always drew judgmental eyes from the other full-time island residents, are completely typical for many other people his age here, and compared to some of the students in his art class, are almost conservative in comparison.

But he doesn’t have everything, at least not yet. With each passing day since his arrival, he had started to miss Johnny more and more, to crave his comforting presence. The texts and occasional video calls are great, but they are never enough to measure up to the real thing.

Although Ten had begun to fear that he would never find the time to start things with Johnny for real – that they would both be too busy with their own lives, or he would still unsure about staying in the city – the mid-October chill brings calm, and the realization that finally, finally, he is ready. He just hopes Johnny feels the same.

Ten texts Johnny, deleting and restarting the message about twenty times before he sends it.

> _Hi :) are you free this Saturday evening?_

Johnny responds a minute later.

> _Hold up_
> 
> _Are you finally asking me out?_

Ten giggles to himself.

> _Maybe_

Johnny takes another minute to write back with a series of messages in a row.

> _So we’re doing this for real??_
> 
> _Yes I’m free_
> 
> _I’ll pick you up at your apartment (how’s 7?) and take you wherever you want to go_

Ten can’t help the huge smile that grows across his face, or the relentless pounding of his heart.

> _7 is perfect. I’ll think of somewhere romantic :p_

Johnny texts back almost immediately this time, and what he writes makes Ten throw his phone to the end of the couch, muffling his uncontrollable giggle in a pillow.

> _I can’t wait for our first date_

* * *

When the buzzer rings, Ten almost jumps off the couch, nearly beside himself with nerves. He quickly checks his makeup in the reflection of his phone and combs his hands through his hair with shaking fingers, still not sure if he had styled it too much or not enough. He has no reason to be nervous, really, other than the fact that he hasn’t seen Johnny in nearly two months and has no idea what to say to him when they see each other. Somehow the fact that they spent almost the entire summer getting to know each other doesn’t ease his nerves; actually, it makes it worse, because Ten is now worried that everything they built up so carefully will turn out to be no more than the superficial trappings of a summer fling. He tries to steady his nerves with a deep breath, pushing down the irrational thoughts, then answers the buzzer even though he knows who it is. “Hello?”

“ _It’s me!”_ comes a deep voice through the intercom, and even through the loud static, Ten almost melts into the ground from hearing Johnny’s voice.

“Come up,” Ten says, buzzing the door open for Johnny. He knows it takes exactly four minutes to get from the front door, up the elevator, to their apartment, and he stares with intensity at the clock in the kitchen, bouncing from heel to heel and trying not to throw up.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he hears the elevator ding at the end of the hallway. The muted sound of footsteps on the tiled floor gets louder until it stops in front of the apartment door, followed by a gentle yet firm knocking.

Ten takes another steadying breath, then opens the door, and then – standing in front of him, heart-stoppingly handsome in a long camel overcoat and plaid scarf, cheeks pink and hair tousled from the cold October wind, is Johnny. Johnny, who looks so tall and solid framed in the doorway of the apartment. Johnny, who beams down at him with a smile so pure and bright that Ten is sure that if his heart beat any faster, it would break through his ribcage. All his fears and nerves disappear when he looks into Johnny’s warm brown eyes, so full of affection, and he wants to fall into Johnny’s arms and kiss him silly, but he doesn’t because that would mean he wouldn’t be able to look at Johnny’s face. 

They stare at each other for an infinite moment, still standing in the doorway, and all Ten can do is smile back up at Johnny – unable to even find the words to say hello. It takes him another minute to notice that Johnny is carrying something in his hands, and Ten reluctantly pulls his eyes from Johnny’s face to look. In Johnny’s hand is – of course, as he had promised all the way back on that one night in August – a bouquet of flowers, an assortment of delicate baby blue and white blooms that Ten doesn’t know the names of but is sure that Johnny does. He looks back up at Johnny, who smiles even wider and wordlessly holds out the bouquet to Ten. Ten takes it and instinctively takes a deep breath of the sweet, honey-like aroma. No one has ever gotten him flowers before. They’re beautiful.

Finally, Johnny speaks, stepping in close enough that Ten can feel heat of his body radiating through his coat.

“Ready?”

He is ready. If Johnny is with him, Ten is ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n [9/17] - I added a 13th chapter! basically an epilogue


	13. Chapter 13

**3 Years Later**

“I’m cold.”

Johnny looks down at Ten, whose nose and ears are flushed a bright pink, his teeth chattering through chapped lips. He lets go of Ten’s hand to pull him into a backwards hug, wrapping his larger body around Ten’s smaller one, caging him in against the railing of the ferry.

“I told you to wear a warmer coat,” Johnny says into Ten’s ear. Though Ten is facing out towards the ocean below, Johnny can see that he is smiling, the corners of his lips barely curved up.

“But you’re so much warmer,” Ten says teasingly, pulling Johnny’s arms closer around himself. Johnny chuckles into his ear and rubs his arms up and down Ten’s sides. He takes Ten’s bare hands and wraps them up in his gloved ones, squeezing them together.

“How’s that, babe?” Johnny murmurs.

“Much better,” Ten replies, snuggling up in Johnny’s warm embrace.

Though it was always chilly on the ferry during the summer, it is nothing short of frigid in the middle of November. The freezing air rolling off the ocean in waves blows through even the thick fabric of Johnny’s heavy overcoat, numbing his lips and slicing at any exposed skin. Ten had, for some reason, only worn a denim jacket, sweater, and a fashion beanie, and he is shaking like a leaf in Johnny’s arms. 

“You’re sure you don’t want to sit inside?” Johnny asks Ten, raising his voice slightly over the sound of the wind and the loud engine of the boat. Other than them, there are only two other passengers on the boat besides the captain and crew, and Johnny and Ten are the only ones crazy enough to be standing on the upper deck for the duration of the twenty-minute trip from the mainland to the island. 

“Yes, I’m sure,” Ten says. “We’re almost there, anyway, look.” As he says it, a dark green smudge appears over the horizon, just visible in the weak midday light of the November sun. Despite the chill, the day is bright and clear, and Johnny feels a tug of excitement upon seeing the familiar sight. “I can’t believe we’re really going back,” Ten muses. Johnny can see that he is still smiling, but he has a far-off, almost wistful look in his eyes.

“It’s just for the day,” Johnny reminds him gently.

“I know. It still feels weird, though.”

It does feel weird, though not necessarily in a bad way. It had been almost three years since Johnny had been to the island, his first time going in winter, and certainly his first time approaching the island with his boyfriend wrapped up in his arms. Ten had only been back once, during the spring of the previous year, to help his mom prepare the house to be sold to its new owners. If Johnny thought it had been hard for Ten to leave the island the first time, he had been a mess when they sold the house. This trip, taken during a rare free Friday for Johnny, will be Ten’s first time back to the island since then.

Johnny pulls Ten’s hat farther down around his ears and tightens his grip on Ten, keeping him warm and protected from the wind as the island grows, coming into clearer focus. The difference between approaching during summer and winter is immediately apparent; now, there are no sailboats, no kites, and no seagulls, save for a lone bird flying far overhead. The ocean is flat and grey, and as they get closer to shore, the usually lively, bustling dock of the town sits still and empty. Johnny has no luggage to carry, just his wallet and keys kept secure in Ten’s cross-body bag.

The ferry finally slows, and the frigid winds start to die down, although the chill in the air remains. Ten disentangles himself from Johnny’s arms and they make their way to the lower level of the boat, where they are the only ones lined up. The other two passengers must be headed to the larger, neighboring island, which is the only other stop on the ferry’s route this late in the season.

The boat pulls to a complete stop, blaring its horn to signal its approach. A deckhand unties the chain securing the gangway, which falls with a loud clatter on the wooden dock below. Johnny walks down first, then gives his hand to Ten to help him step off onto the dock. Ten rolls his eyes but accepts Johnny’s hand anyway, using it for support as he hops over the foot-wide gap between the dock and the ramp.

Before they can continue, Johnny peels off his gloves. He lifts Ten’s right hand first, then slips the glove on. Ten smiles warmly up at him, letting Johnny wiggle the glove until each small finger is snug inside, with about an inch of empty fabric at the tip of each finger. He does this for the other hand, then plants a kiss on his lips (which are as cold as ice cubes, although Johnny’s aren’t much better), grabs Ten’s other hand, and they set off down the pier.

Although the island had looked completely deserted from the ferry, it is not actually empty. A few fishermen mill around the main street of the small town, stacking crab pots in front of the restaurant, smoking and chatting. The windows of the restaurant are dark, but it is still relatively early in the day. The doors of the general store are closed, too, although as they walk past, Johnny can see the lights on inside and the silhouettes of a few people walking around. Ten glances at the shop as they pass.

“Want to go in? Say hello to your old boss?” Johnny asks, watching Ten’s face. Ten pauses, then shakes his head.

“No, maybe later.” Ten tugs on Johnny’s hand and they keep walking. “I’m not very nostalgic for Sicheng’s uncle.” Johnny laughs, peering into the window one more time before continuing on. 

“Where to next?” Johnny ventures. It had been Ten’s idea to visit in the first place, and Johnny had let Ten make all the arrangements. Not that there had been many arrangements to be made – these mostly consisted of checking the ferry schedule to make sure there would be a round-trip available for the day, then buying the tickets. Ten hadn’t said anything about wanting to visit specific places on the island, so Johnny hadn’t pressed him on it, happy to let Ten make the plans.

Ten doesn’t answer immediately, but Johnny soon recognizes the familiar route. They take the first road off the main street, turning down a narrow road with clusters of bamboo growing on either side of the boardwalk. In the early winter, the bamboo is the only green vegetation on the island, as far as Johnny can tell. The bamboo thickens as they continue along the path, which gets increasingly narrow. This deep in, the sound of the ocean fades, replaced instead by the rustling of bamboo leaves and their footsteps on the wooden pathway.

“Here.” Ten stops and lets go of Johnny’s hand. To their right is the small wooden path, surrounded on either side by two tall lanterns, that leads up to Ten’s old family home. The house looks nearly the same, except for the door, which has been painted white over its natural wood color. Ten seems hesitant to approach the house, instead lingering by Johnny’s side.

“Do you think anyone’s home?” Johnny wonders aloud, noting the dark, boarded-up windows and lack of smoke from the chimney.

“No. The new owners only come during the spring and summer,” Ten responds, eyeing the house. “During the winter, they pay someone on the island to check the pipes and run the heat once a week.”

“Oh, gotcha,” Johnny says. He glances down at Ten, who is still looking at the house with an unreadable expression. “Want to go take a look?”

Ten sighs, then shakes his head. “They shuttered the windows, so we won’t be able to see inside. It’s not my home anymore, anyway.”

“Alright,” Johnny says carefully. “We can also come take a look on our way back, if you want.” Ten nods distractedly, giving the house another once-over before turning away.

“Let’s keep going.”

So, they continue, walking past houses that are mostly dark and boarded up, though smoke can be seen rising from the chimneys of a few. The air feels warmer inland, insulated from the cold wind by the bamboo, trees, and houses. Above them, the sky is clear and pale blue, and Johnny feels his heart surge. He has been stuck inside so much these past several months, so often seeing only the walls of the medical school library or his and Ten’s apartment, that he has almost forgotten what it feels like to see the sky. The brisk air fills his lungs and clears his head.

As they walk, Ten sometimes comments to point out where friends used to live, but mostly they are quiet, content to enjoy each other’s company in the crispness of the day. Eventually, the trees thin out and the walkway gets lower to the ground until it is just the occasional slat of wood set into the sand. They follow the walkway over the crest of the dune, where the beach opens up before them, wide and empty. He understands now why the winter was Ten’s favorite part of living on the island: it is cold, and lonely, yet beautiful for those same reasons.

Standing atop the dune, the wind comes back in full force, buffeting them with the frigid, salty air that rolls off the ocean. Johnny sneaks a glance at Ten’s face. The uncertain, clouded look from earlier is gone, replaced by complete serenity. Johnny gets a sudden flash of a memory: Ten, standing atop the lighthouse at the end of their first summer together, gazing out at the ocean below. Looking back on it now, Johnny is sure that that is the moment he fell in love with Ten.

Almost like he is reading Johnny’s thoughts, Ten pulls his gaze from the ocean and looks up at Johnny, his cheeks flushed and his dark eyelashes fluttering in the wind. Johnny wraps his arm around Ten and squeezes his shoulder reassuringly, then grabs his hand again. They walk side-by-side down the rickety wooden staircase to the beach below. It is still too early for snowfall, so the sand is still exposed and still shifts and slides under Johnny’s sneakers as he walks. Although the rest of Ten’s outfit is fully unsuited for the weather, his chunky hiking boots – worn down from many of his and Johnny’s camping trips in the mountains – give him better purchase in the sand.

Despite the windchill, Ten practically skips down the beach, tugging Johnny along with him. Johnny, laughing, can’t help but follow. They walk for another fifteen minutes or so, stopping every few minutes to hug for warmth, until they approach the familiar sight of the bonfire. Everything is exactly in its place from where it would be during the summer, from the three massive, concrete wave breakers to the semi-circle of benches set around the now-empty bonfire pit.

“Let’s sit here,” Ten says, pulling Johnny towards the bench closest to the ocean. Johnny wipes some sand off it first before folding down next to Ten. He wraps his arms around Ten’s small frame as best he can; in response, Ten sighs contentedly and burrows into Johnny’s side, leaning his head on Johnny’s shoulder. They sit in silence for a while, watching the low-tide waves lap at the shoreline. The sound lulls Johnny, and he rests his head on top of Ten’s, tempted to close his eyes and drift to sleep.

Just as he starts getting really comfortable, happy to let himself drift off, Ten starts shifting around under him. Johnny makes a confused noise, sitting up when Ten elbows him in the ribs.

“Ow, Ten – what are you doing?” He says, rubbing the spot where Ten’s sharp elbow dug in.

“You’re crushing my bag,” Ten says, trying to tug his purse out from where it is half-lodged under Johnny’s butt. “There’s important stuff in here.” Johnny lifts himself up for a moment to let Ten get it out all the way. Johnny expects Ten to readjust the bag and lean back on him, but Ten starts digging around in the main pocket. He watches with mild interest, as the bag is not particularly big and therefore shouldn’t be able to contain anything too interesting, yet he makes a confused noise when Ten pulls out a hardcover book.

“Huh? Why do you have that?” Johnny asks, now genuinely puzzled. “Am I that boring to hang out with, you need to read?” He peers at the cover to read the title, but it is just a regular fiction novel, one he recognizes from their bookshelf at home but has never seen Ten read before.

Ten tuts at him, rolling his eyes. “No, you big dummy.” He flips open the cover then shuffles through the pages. He stops at the middle of the book, peeling back a sheet of parchment paper and holding the book out gingerly for Johnny to see. “Look.”

Sitting atop the open page is a sprig of blue and white flowers, completely flat but with the color of the petals and stem completely preserved. “Are those – ”

“The flowers you got me for our first date? Yes,” Ten interrupts. He delicately traces the flowers on the page. “Bluebells and baby’s breath, right? I pressed them as soon as I got home. Actually,” he says, now smiling softly up at Johnny, “I meant to show you these earlier, but I wanted to wait until sometime special. Happy anniversary, Johnny.”

Johnny can’t take his eyes off the flowers, his breath caught somewhere between his lungs and his mouth. Ten is not usually one for sentiments or keepsakes; that is more Johnny’s thing, while Ten is the pragmatic one in the relationship. The fact that Ten had kept these flowers, which Johnny had spent hours at the florist picking out – his heart feels so full, about to burst, to spill over with emotion. He raises his eyes to meet Ten, who searches his face.

“Happy anniversary, Ten.”

Ten’s eyes are watering, whether from the cold or not, Johnny can’t tell. He leans in close to Johnny, tilting up his face so their noses rub together. “I love you, baby,” Ten whispers, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of Johnny’s nose. Johnny whispers it back. Though the beach is entirely empty save for them, the words are too precious to say too loud, too precious to risk them getting swept away by the wind.

He remembers their first date (their first _real_ date, on the mainland) with near-perfect clarity. He had been eating dinner with Mark and Doyoung when Ten first texted him, and he had whooped so loudly that Doyoung had almost choked on his food. He had spent hours picking out what to wear, and even longer at the florist, looking for the perfect bouquet. He knew Ten wasn’t really expecting flowers, and it was sort of an old-fashioned, corny thing to do, but once he had the idea in his mind, he couldn’t get it out until he left the flower shop clutching the bouquet of delicate blue and white blooms to his chest.

He had been half-expecting Ten to laugh in his face when he showed up with the flowers, but Ten looked so genuinely happy, setting them carefully in a pitcher before they left the apartment for their date. Johnny had been planning to take Ten to a restaurant, but they ended up walking around the city for almost three hours, just talking. At first, Ten seemed a bit nervous, laughing anxiously at whatever Johnny said; it didn’t take long for him to warm up, though, and soon Ten was genuinely laughing, pulling at Johnny’s elbow to hold himself steady from laughing so hard. Johnny remembers feeling so giddy. He couldn’t even look at Ten without smiling.

Forgetting about Johnny’s dinner reservation entirely, they had ended up walking through the park, meandering through the gardens to see the lights strung up on the trees around the duck pond. They had been sitting on a secluded stone bench at the edge of the pond as the sun set, watching the ducks and swans paddle around the darkening water, when they shared their first kiss in months. Something about that kiss had felt different than the ones that came before it; it was less urgent, like they both knew they had all the time in the world to keep kissing, to nurture the feelings sprouting tenderly under the surface.

Johnny had also not intended them to sleep together that day, either; yet somehow, much later that night, Ten ended up pressed against him in his narrow dorm room bed, his small, naked body wrapped up in Johnny’s arms like he had nowhere else in the world he could possibly be but right there.

They had not started dating officially, then. It took about a month of dates and Johnny waffling around to finally ask Ten to be his boyfriend, in the second week of November. Ten had agreed, though not without giving Johnny a hard time first for taking so long to ask.

As much as Johnny wanted to move in together as soon as possible, Ten had insisted that they wait until Johnny graduated from college to make any kind of decision like that. Johnny understood; as much as he knew he was ready, it was Ten’s first real relationship, and he knew it made sense for Ten to get fully settled into life on the mainland before moving again. Eventually, they had moved in together, in a small studio apartment nearly equidistant from the medical school Johnny had chosen to go to and Ten’s art school. Though Johnny became insanely busy with school and work at the lab, Ten didn’t mind too much, as it gave him some much-needed time to himself. And it made their rare time together at home that much better. The last few years had passed in a blur, and Johnny almost can’t believe that they are already celebrating their third anniversary.

They remain at the beach for another hour, sharing tender kisses and reminiscing. Johnny unzips his coat and uses it to wrap Ten up against his body. Ten paws at Johnny’s sweater like a cat, clutching onto his chest as they kiss.

“Now what?” Johnny says, having broken away from the kiss to stroke at Ten’s head. “This is really nice, but I sort of feel like I’m going to die of hypothermia if we sit out here any longer.”

Ten whines sadly. “Ugh, I know, same. Why can’t our anniversary be in a nice month, like May? This is all your fault. You should have waited until the spring to ask me to be your boyfriend. But you were so horned up you couldn’t wait that long, could you?” Johnny pinches his cheek playfully, and Ten giggles, half-heartedly batting Johnny’s hand away. “I guess we can go see if the restaurant is open yet. Maybe they’ll let us in for an early dinner.”

Johnny pulls Ten off the bench and they set of back down the beach, back in the direction they came from earlier.

Sitting in the warm interior of the restaurant, watching Ten through the steam rising from his soup, Johnny feels almost like he is walking inside a memory or dream come to life. Johnny’s eyes trace the angles and soft edges of Ten’s face as Ten stares out the window, watching the fishermen load the empty crab pots back onto their boat. Ten must sense Johnny staring because he turns his head, catching Johnny’s eyes. Despite their three years together, Johnny can’t help the fluttering in his heart or the flush in his cheeks when Ten levels him with that strong gaze. The corner of Ten’s mouth lifts and he reaches across the table to pull Johnny’s soup towards himself. He helps himself to a spoonful and makes a thoughtful expression.

“This actually isn’t that bad,” he says, sounding mildly surprised, then goes in for another spoonful.

“I love you,” Johnny says, still watching Ten. Ten snorts, raising his eyebrows up at Johnny as he licks the spoon clean.

“I comment on the soup, and you tell me you love me?” he says, though his tone is gentle.

“Yes.”

Ten smiles to himself as he takes another bite of soup. He swirls it around in his mouth before swallowing. “You’re so weird.” Yet he looks back up at Johnny with a smile so full of warmth and love it makes Johnny’s heart melt. It is all he can do to keep himself from grabbing Ten in his arms, pushing him to the sticky floor of the restaurant, and kissing him silly. He restrains himself though, instead giving Ten a gentle squeeze on the thigh and pulling his soup back over to his side of the table.

Ten is still smiling, even as his gaze wanders back to the window and the bay outside. Without looking at Johnny, he says quietly, “I’m really glad we met, Johnny.”

Johnny catches Ten’s hand and squeezes it in his own, feeling the pounding of Ten’s heartbeat through his palm.

“Me too.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay this is REALLY the end lol
> 
> Wah it’s finally done! 
> 
> This was supposed to be a short n' fluffy fic for me to live out my quarantine vacation fantasies lol but ended up being a bit more ~emo~ than I had anticipated (not really, but a little bit) and definitely much longer. This is also easily the longest thing I’ve ever written, clocking in at over 100+ pages on the word doc I wrote it on lmao. I just love these characters with my whole heart, and I had so so much fun writing them that I wanted to make sure I gave them time to grow the intimacy of their relationship in a natural way. I hope you enjoyed reading it 🥰
> 
> My sincerest thank you to everyone who read along to the end, commented, kudosed, and subscribed(!) It really motivated me and always brightened my day to read everyone’s kind words!😊
> 
> Stay safe czennies/wayzennies 💚 
> 
> -OG  
> <3


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